


Let No Man Put Asunder

by Nightmare_Child



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Anal Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1872786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmare_Child/pseuds/Nightmare_Child
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the old West Sam and Dean Winchester hunt the Demon who murdered their mother and they learn that there is much more to the game of revenge than they had expected and that the road is much longer than they had imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revenge Is A Young Man's Game

**Author's Note:**

> So this was born of my adoration of Clint Eastwood's westerns and just the western genre in general. This is a wincest fic and there will be some graphic stuff later on, so if that's not your thing you have been warned. Anyway I plan on updating this every week, probably on Mondays. Thanks for reading I hope you enjoy it. :)

Chapter One:  
Revenge Is A Young Man’s Game  
“O bury me not on the lone prairie. These words came low and mournfully from the pallid lips of the youth who lay on his dying bed at the close of day.”

 

Wyoming, 1877

The merciless sun which had baked the hard packed earth since dawn, was now setting swiftly and decisively. The scorched earth held all the fury of the sun now and heat radiated up from below any travelers still out after sunset. The land, though unforgiving, was also beautiful. Wide stretches of horizon unbroken by any landmarks, man made or otherwise and the desert as lethal as it was, held an unearthly fascination for its vastness and beauty. A fascination that many men had found themselves robbed of once ensconced in its unending uniformity.

Two men, weary from the road dropped from their horses, fatigue slowing their movements. They walked through the semi-deserted streets of the town whose name they would forget as soon as they left, they were never any one place long enough to bother with remembering. The shorter and elder of the two men gestured to the saloon with a mischievous grin. The younger man followed half-heartedly, a look of resignation on his face.

They entered the saloon and sat themselves in an unoccupied corner, where they would hopefully go unnoticed. The short man whose eyes shone green in the dim lamplight motioned for a drink. It was brought to him by an aging gentleman and was thrown back eagerly. After securing a second drink the younger man whose angular features were overshadowed with concern turned to the other.

“We shouldn’t be here.” He said in a half-whisper.

“Relax Sam,” the older man said. “It’s just a minute or two, sides we been ridin’ all day. I need a drink.”

“Fine Dean, ya have your drink, then we go. It’s dangerous for us ta be out like this.”

Dean just nodded and tossed back another shot of whiskey. He grimaced as the liquid burned its way down his throat, warming him from the inside and sending a calmness through him he rarely felt. They passed another few tense minutes while Dean drank his fill and at last they stood to go, Sam sighing in relief as they did. As they approached the door a firm hand fell on Sam’s shoulder, anchoring him in place. The two men turned in unison to see who had accosted them. A large beefy man, with a heavily pockmarked face and bulbous red nose, looked at them malice in his eyes.

“You them boys ever ’one’s lookin’ for.” He spoke in a self-important drawl.

“We aint nobody Mister,” Dean said smoothly. “And less ya want trouble I suggest ya let us git on our way.”

“Oohoo, we got ourselves a coupla tough guys here, ‘less I want trouble.’” The man scoffed. “I nose you’re them boys, I rode in from Greenhollow just this evenin’, seems ya made yourselves quite a name there. I seent all them posters they had up, and I never forget a face, fella.”

“Listen here you sonofabitch, I’m tellin’ ya we aint them, now for your own good, just let it go.” Dean said, his voice had dropped to a deadly whisper.

The man reached for his hip, and Sam quick as a snake drew his pistol and shot the gun the man had drawn out of his hand. The man crumpled to the ground clutching his bloody hand, now full of shrapnel. Sam grabbed Dean by the lapels of his tattered duster and dragged him from the saloon. They mounted their already wearied horses and spurred them into a gallop. Riding hard straight through the small town and out into the wild country. They rode for several minutes, both listening hard for any signs of pursuit. Just as they had begun to breathe easy again they heard it. The pounding of hooves, and shouting of several men.

They looked to each other, expressions grim. The man had gathered a posse to run them down. Sam knew that their horses were too worn out, to out run the gang and the look on Dean’s face told him that Dean knew it too. Sam spurred his horse on, trying to figure a way out for them. He took in the lay of the land as they rode, and seeing a small valley saw his chance. He motioned to Dean to follow his lead and headed for the mouth of the valley. The sound of thundering hooves grew closer and Sam chanced a look back to see four men, the leader the man who had drew on them. They carried guns and Sam knew that once within distance, they would not hesitate to use them.

They galloped into the valley and Sam scanned the walls searching, hoping. He caught sight of a small opening in the rock, sending silent thanks to anyone who may be listening. He rode for it and Dean followed him. Sam dismounted and began gathering what brush to him that he could. Dean dropped from his horse and helped him. They piled the brush outside the small cave and to the side to shield the horses from view. Sam wedged the reins between two rocks and they retreated into the cramped space, pulling the brush over the entrance to hide them from view, both hoping that had acted quickly enough for their pursuers not to have seen. They crouched in silence and when they heard the group of men pass, they relaxed only slightly. It was a long while before they dared to speak. It was Dean who eventually broke the silence.

“That was too damn close.” He said quietly.

“I told ya we shouldn’t have gone there.” Sam said, weariness taking the place of the gloating tone he normally would have taken. He always relished in having the upper hand on his big brother, the result no doubt of being the youngest.

“Yeah well,” Dean began, his tone conciliatory. “Thanks brother, ya saved our hides back there.”

“Don’t I always?” Sam asked a little more smugly than before.

“Don’t push it.” Dean said warningly, but there was a smile on his face that said otherwise.

Sam looked around their dwelling, his spirits falling slightly. “We can’t risk a fire, they might still be out there. So no supper, might as well just turn in.”

Dean sighed exaggeratedly, he hated missing a meal, which happened far too often in his opinion. “Well since it was your quick thinkin’ got us outta that mess, I’ll take first watch.” Sam removed his hat, dusty from the road and rolled over without another word. He was asleep in minutes. Dean crouched at the mouth of the cave, poised to strike if there was any trouble. He knew their dismal quarters for the evening were his fault, and wanted to make it up to Sam. Sam hated taking unnecessary chances, something that Dean did all too often. It wasn’t something he could help, it was just in his nature.

The night grew colder and Dean removed his coat and draped it over Sam’s long form. He smiled at the peaceful look on his brother’s face, a look he saw so infrequently now. It’d be easier if they weren’t outlaws, Dean thought to himself for the hundredth time. But there was nothing for it, you couldn’t do what they did and not break a few laws, or several. You see, they were hunters and not of any game you’ve ever seen. They hunted monsters and demons and all of the terrible things mothers used to keep misbehaving children in line. They hunted nightmares and not without its price.

They were wanted and hunted wherever they went, everyone knew their names, the Winchesters. Hell, they were more talked of than Jesse James himself. Their father had set them on this path when they were just boys. Their mother had been killed by the demon they call Yellow Eyes, when Dean was four years old. And from that day on their father, John Winchester had hunted the monster that had taken his beloved Mary from him. The road was long and as the boys grew their father grew no closer to finding what he sought. The drink stole what little warmth the man still possessed and his blind sidedness and lust for vengeance would prove to be his downfall.

About a year ago, John’s road finally came to an end, but not in the manner he had expected. He found ol’ Yellow Eyes at long last and instead of waiting for the backup of his two sons, now young men, he charged in half-cocked, blinded by his rage and was cut down by the demon. Shot down in the street, like a dog. When the boys finally arrived it was too late, and from that day forward a fire had been lit within them, the same savage need for vengeance that their father had harbored for so long. What they had failed to learn from John’s example, is that revenge is a dangerous game not for the faint of heart and if they weren’t careful they would lose more than they imagined.

To lose one another would be worse than death, Dean had all but raised Sam and they were closer than two brothers probably had any right to be. They knew their sin well and worked hard to keep it concealed, lest it be plastered on those wretched posters with all their other misdeeds. To lie with a man was vile enough in the eyes of most, but one’s brother, that was an entirely new level of indecency. Their relationship had been as such for as long as either of them could remember. All they had ever really had was each other and their love went beyond that of mere filial affection. In their eyes all of the world consisted of just the two of them, or the only part of the world that mattered anyway, and it suited them just fine.

The night wore on and Dean let Sam sleep, he needed it and Dean owed him for getting them in this mess in the first place. As the sun began to rise Sam awoke and seeing how late it had grown, looked at Dean disapprovingly. “Why didn’t ya wake me?” he asked.

“Cause ya look so darn sweet when you sleep.” Dean replied with a coy smile.

“Well now ya aint had any sleep and I’ve gone and had too much.” Sam countered.

“I’ll be fine.” Dean said. “Sides I owed ya one.”

“Yes ya did, and I’m thinkin’ since ya almost got us killed again, you owe me just a mite more.” Sam replied returning his brother’s smile.

“Is that so?” asked Dean. “And what might that be?”

“Just this.” Sam said bringing their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Dean returned the kiss eagerly, running his hands through Sam’s hair. After they had parted, they lingered for a moment, breaths mingling as they looked into one another’s eyes. These moments were precious to them, the few moments where everything melted away, the loss, the hunt, the harshness of the road. It all faded into nothingness, because they knew that what truly mattered was right in front of them. They gathered their things together and exited the little cave. They mounted their horses and Dean turned to Sam.

“I don’t know bout you, but I got to git some food into me afore I keel over.” He said.

“We’ll ride a ways, find some place safe ta stop, once we’ve had breakfast we can figger out our next move.” Sam replied, always the voice of reason.

They rode through several towns and many miles before Sam was satisfied that they’d gone far enough. They rode into an almost entirely deserted town. They’d seen it’s like before. A town is thriving, then the railway moves away and it’s the end of everything. There were still a few folks too stubborn to move on living there. It was always this way, always old men who refused to go, men too set in their ways to start a new life somewhere else. They would go eventually, when they had no other choice. Then the town would fall to ruin and desiccation and would be overrun by outlaws and bandits, but for now it was quiet, it was safe.

They stopped and wandered into the general store, one of the only businesses still inhabited. Dean approached the man behind the counter. “Any place round here a man might get a hot meal?” he asked casually.

“Well,” said the clerk. “There aint much of anything left round here, you fellas look wore out form the road.”

“We are.” Sam agreed. “Been ridin’ hard near on two days now.”

“Ya don’t wanta go ridin’ your horse into ground mister, it aint right.” The clerk said disapprovingly.

“We aint had a choice in the matter.” Said Dean.

“I know how it is.” The clerk. “I aint always been behind a counter, sellin’ wares if ya can believe it.

“Oh I believe it.” Dean said with an easy smile. “Bet you was quite the hell raiser in your day, old man.”

The clerk laughed deep in his belly. “Oho that I was son. I tell ya what, my Bonnie should be fixin’ up lunch soon. Why don’t you fellas join us, we’d be proud to have ya.”

“That sounds just fine.” Dean said.

“Yes Sir, just fine.” Sam added.

The clerk led them through the small shop, boasting what meager wares it could. Through a door and up a flight of stairs in the back, they were led to a cramped apartment above the shop. There were to rooms, a place for fixing meals and a place for sleeping. It wasn’t much, but Dean liked it, it felt like home. They caught sight of a woman in her sixties working at a large pot on the stove. She turned when she heard them come in. The clerk stepped up to his wife and placed a gentle kiss on her wrinkled cheek.

“Who’ve you got with ya, Artie?” she asked eyeing the young men.

Artie turned toward them and Sam stepped forward. “My name is Silas and this here is my partner Jacob.”

Dean nodded his agreement. “Pleased ta meet ya Ma’am.” He said tipping his hat to her.

“They rode in just today lookin’ for a hot meal, I figgered we could have em’ for lunch. We aint much of a town anymore, but we’s still decent people that’s left. Couldn’t just turn em’ away could we?” Artie said to his wife.

“No of course not.” Bonnie said smiling warmly at them. “Why don’t you boy have a seat, rest up a bit.”

Sam and Dean removed their hats and coats and sat themselves at the worn oak table and Artie joined them. “So where you fellas headed so fast you aint got time to rest your horses?” Artie asked curiously.

“We’re bounty hunters, down from Greenhollow.” Sam said. “Been huntin’ them Winchester boys a long while now.”

“Coupla flighty bastards they is.” Dean added.

“Well, good luck to ya. I heard stories bout them boys. They’s into all manner of devilish things, they aint got the sperit, I tell ya. Who exhumes a grave if they aint figgerin’ to rob it? What is they really up to?”

“I don’t rightly know Sir, but we hope to put an end to em’ mighty soon.” Sam told him solemnly.

“God bless ya.” Artie said.

At that moment Bonnie arrived at the table with a steaming pot of something that smelled delicious. “Enough of that talk,” she said firmly. “Now I hope you boys like stew, it aint much, but it’s all we got.”

“It smells delicious, Ma’am.” Dean replied heartily.

Bonnie served them all a heaping portion of stew and they all sat down to eat, the younger men with quite a deal more relish. After they’d eaten their fill they rose and pulled their dusty coats on, placed their hats on their heads and turned to the couple who had shown them such kindness. “Thank ya much.” Sam told them gratefully. “You been awful kind to us.”

“It was no trouble.” Artie said. “We was happy ta have ya.”

“You stay safe out there, them Winchesters aint to be trifled with.” Bonnie said.

“We will Ma’am, and thank ya for lunch. Been a long time since I tasted cooking as fine as yours.” Dean said.

“If ya lookin’ for a place to hang your hat, Samson’ll put folks up now and again, just down the street from here.” Artie told them.

“We’ll head on over now.” Sam replied, lifting his hand in farewell.

They left the apartment and soon found themselves in the deserted street again. They made their way along until they came to an old hotel, abandoned by the look of it. They headed inside and got themselves a double room from the man Samson, who seemed surprised and delighted to be having guests to fill the many rooms that had long stood empty. Once settled in the room Dean turned to his brother. “Alright, we need a plan.” He said. “All this wanderin’ around aint gettin’ us anywhere.”

“Well what did ya have in mind exactly?” Sam asked him.

“I don’t know.” Dean tossing his hat down onto the bed and running a hand through his short sandy hair.

“We got to do something.” Sam said tiredly. “We can’t just keep runnin’ in circles forever.”

“We aint just runnin’ in circles.” Dean replied defensively. “We been workin’ other cases, been savin’ lives, like Pa taught us.”

“Yellow Eyes has got to be stopped, I aint lettin’ him hurt nobody else.”

Dean sighed. “We could always pay a visit ta Bobby, he knows more bout these things than anyone, even Pa and South Dakota aint far.”

“Him and Pa had it out purty bad last time they seent each other. Ya think he’d even help us?”

“Bobby was always good ta us, even when Pa wasn’t, specially when Pa wasn’t. I think he’s our best shot.”

Sam nodded. “Well while we’re here you should get some sleep, you aint had none in days. We’ll head on out to Singer Ranch tomorra’.”

With a plan, as shaky as it seemed, Dean was finally able to relax enough to sleep, though his dreams were plagued by fire and pain. Sam watched over his brother as he slept and it pained him to see the fear on his features where there should be peace. Dean looked like a frightened child, the same child that had seen his Ma burn so many years ago. Sam brushed a thumb gently along Dean’s cheek, hoping that their journey would be over soon, hoping that could stop running, that they could just be together the way they had always dreamed of. He watched his brother sleep and waited, but for what he could not tell.


	2. The Wrong Dogs Came Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean ask an old friend for help tracking down the Yellow Eyed demon, and get a little more than they bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks, here's chapter two just like i promised and with some familiar faces being introduced. Hope you're liking it so far. Comments and kudos always appreciated.  
> Thanks for reading.

Chapter Two:

The Wrong Dogs Came Home

“O bury me not on the lone prairie where the wild coyote will howl o’er me, where the buffalo roams the prairie sea.”

 

 

The night passed swiftly, a chill creeping into the air that spoke of an early winter. The boys agreed to stay in the hotel for the night, not having had such a secure place to stay in a while. They slept in shifts and awoke early the following morning, eager to get on the road. The day dawned bright, the sun already beginning to warm the land. Sam and Dean mounted their horses and rode out of the town, thankful for the respite it had provided them, however brief it had been. They headed East, in the direction of Sioux Falls and Singer Ranch. It was a day’s ride and if they were lucky and rode hard enough they could make it by nightfall.

They rode winding back roads and avoided towns when they could. It was slow going and the horses, not fully recovered from the brutal pace they’d been set the past few days, required more rest than the men themselves. It was during one such rest that Dean turned to his brother and spoke. “We should see bout havin’ these horses replaced with fresh ones when we get to the ranch.”

“That’s considerin’ he don’t run us off the place with a shotgun when he catches sight of us, like he done Pa the last time they seent each other.”

“Good point.”

“Hey Dean?” Sam asked a bit cautiously.

“What’s on your mind Sammy?” Dean asked seeing the concern in Sam’s eyes.

“Well, I been thinkin’” Sam began. “What happens when we catch Yellow Eyes?”

“We kill em’, shoot em’ down like a dog, like he done Pa.” Dean replied matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I mean after that.” Sam pressed. “What do we do once he’s dead?”

“I guess I never thought that far ahead.” Dean admitted. “You was always the thinkin’ man outta the bunch. I suppose we’ll keep on huntin’, always somethin’ evil need killin’.”

“That really what you wanna do?” Sam asked trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Hell, I don’t know Sam, what else can we do?”

“We can leave the life, find someplace quiet, where we aint have to look over our shoulders ever’ damn minute, where we can just be, ya know.”

“I never pegged you for the quiet life, Sammy.” Dean replied with a grin, trying to shake the weight of Sam’s words.

“Tell ya the truth,” Sam continued unheedful of his brother’s response. “I’m gettin’ tired Dean, tired of runnin’”

Dean sighed, “I know Sam, I do. It’s just I been doin’ this so long, I don’t know if I can do anything else. I aint like you, I can’t just drop ever’thing and start a whole new life. I’m just one of them old fellas in a dead town, too stubborn to move on, or too afraid.”

“It don’t have to be like that and you know it. We could do it together, I just want to be with you and that aint ever gonna happen long as we keep huntin’.”

In lieu of a response Dean gathered his brother in his arms and held him close, placing a soft kiss on his brow. They stood like that for several long moments before they broke apart. Sam could see that conversation was over for the moment, but he refused to let it drop completely. The remainder of the ride was in undertaken in silence and the sun had just begun to dip below the horizon when they caught sight of the sprawling ranch before them. It consisted of large corral, a barn worn colorless by the sun and rain and a small farmhouse on the outset of the property.

 

They rode up to the house and hitched their horses out front. Before they’d had time to take a step for the door it swung open to reveal a man on the late side of fifty, he wore a cracked leather Stetson and had a grizzled white beard. He was also carrying a double barreled shotgun, loaded by the look of it. He took a few steps toward them and seeing them clearly in the dying light he lowered his gun a fraction of an inch. “Sam? Dean?” he asked confused. “What the hell you two doin’ here?”

“Howdy Bobby,” Dean replied. “It’s a long story, we’ll tell ya bout it, if ya don’t shoot us that is.”

Bobby lowered the shotgun and nodded. “Fine, come in then and tell me this story. Just don’t make me regret it.”

The boys followed Bobby into the house, it was neatly kept and sparsely furnished, containing a kitchen and parlor, which was so crammed with books it was a wonder anyone could move in there. There was a flight of stairs leading up to the bedroom where Bobby slept and the spare where Sam and Dean had slept on more than one occasion, when they were too young or inexperienced for a hunt. Bobby led them into the kitchen and they all settled around a large table of roughly hewn logs. Bobby poured them each a coffee and sat back, waiting for someone to speak. They sipped their coffee for a moment longer and it was Sam who finally broke the silence.

“We come to ask you for help.” He began. “Findin’ the demon.” They all knew the demon of which he spoke.

“That’s quite a thing to drop on a man afore he’s had his coffee.” Bobby said, irritated.

“I know Bobby and we’re sorry bout showing up so suddenly and all, but we’re out o’ options.” Dean said.

“I thought this demon was your Pa’s problem, don’t tell me he’s got you fightin’ his battles for him now.”

“No sir,” Sam said. “Pa died bout a year ago, ol’ Yellow Eyes got him afore we could get there. I think Pa always knew it would end bad, he just didn’t know how to stop ya know?”

“Yeah well, he always was a stubborn fool.” Said Bobby. “He weren’t a very nice man, but he was a good un’, sorry to hear he’s passed.”

Dean nodded his head but didn’t say anything. He’d been closer to their father than Sam had been, had all but worshipped the ground he had walked on. He was devastated when John died, blamed himself, didn’t speak or eat for days. Sam thought he would lose Dean too before he came out of it. Since that day he had hardly spoken of their father, just in passing or in reference to the demon. It was as if the grief were still too near him, like they were living in their father’s shadow as they always had. Sam wondered if they would ever truly be rid of him and wondered also if he wanted to be.

“This calls for more than coffee.” Bobby said suddenly and decisively. He got up and went to the sideboard at the far left of his small kitchen. He brought back three tumblers and a quart of rye. He poured them each a drink and resumed his seat. “To your Pa.” Bobby said, tipping back his glass and draining it.

They drank to their father and when Bobby had poured them another Dean spoke up. “We gotta find him.”

“I know ya do and I think I got somethin’ that might help.” Bobby replied. He got to his feet and made his way into the parlor around the unnumbered stacks of books. He found what he was looking for and brought it back to the table, setting it down almost reverently. It looked incredibly old, bound in a hide unlike any they had ever seen. Bobby caught them looking. “Bound in human flesh.” He said.

The boys shared an uneasy look. “What is this thing?” asked Sam.

“The earliest writins’ bout all things demon an trust me, there’s a lot.”

“So there’s a way ta find Yellow Eyes in here?” asked Dean quickly.

“There’s a summonin’ spell I think might work.”

“How long you had this?” asked Dean a touch accusingly.

“Not long, I meant to show it to your Pa if he ever came round again, but you know him, never one to forgive and forget”

Sam nodded smiling slightly. “Like he used ta say, ya can’t bury the hatchet in the dead of winter.”

“And he was a colder man than any I ever knew when he had a mind to be.”

“This spell,” Dean pressed. “It complicated?”

“Not very, I got most of what we need right here.”

“Well what else’ll we need?” asked Sam.

“Ya need a blood sacrifice to finish the thing off.”

“That aint nothin’.” Said Dean triumphantly. “When can we do her?”

“I can have it all fixed up by this afternoon. That all right with you boys?”

“That’s damn fine, Bobby.” Said Sam. “Thank ya.”

“How are ya even gonna kill im when ya find im?” asked Bobby.

Sam and Dean shared a tense look before Dean reached into his coat and pulled out a pistol, engraved on the barrel were the Latin words ‘Non timebo mala,’ I will fear no evil and a pentagram had been scratched into the handle. He laid it on the table and Bobby looked at it dumbfounded. “That aint what I think it is, is it?”

“Sure is.” Dean told him a little proudly. “Samuel Colt’s masterpiece. Can kill anythin’.”

“Jumpin’ Jesus, how’d you get your hands on that?” Bobby asked in awe.

“Pa helped ol’ Samuel out a while back, got this here on loan from im, till we kill Yellow Eyes.”

“Alright son, that outta do it.”

“Thanks much for helpin’ us out Bobby.” Dean said. “We wasn’t countin’ on it, ya know, on account of how you and Pa left it last time ya seet each other.”

“I didn’t regret losing John’s comp’ny when he took off, but you boys was like family to me. I’m glad ta have ya back.”

Sam and Dean stayed in the kitchen, out of the way while Bobby worked. They asked a few times if he needed any help, but he refused every time. He worked quickly and efficiently and when the sky had begun to drain of color he entered the kitchen and sat down heavily. “She’s all finished.” He said pouring himself a large drink and tossing it back with relish. “Hell that took a damn sight longer n’ I thought it would.”

“But she’s all done?” Dean asked.

“All done.”

“And now what we gotta do?” asked Sam.

“Well ya gotta make the sacrifice, say some purty words in Latin and that outta do it.”

“I’ll do it.” Dean volunteered. “I’ll make the sacrifice.”

Sam knew better than to argue with him, so he just nodded his agreement. They followed Bobby into the parlor here a makeshift altar had been set up. A wooden bowl of god knows what sat on a low table and before it, a map of the country. “How’s this gonna work?” asked Dean looking at everything.

“All you gotta do is say the words and then bleed on the map, if ever’thin works, the blood should show us exactly where that bastard’s been hidin’.”

Bobby handed Dean the book, open to a passage in Latin. Dean set the book down on the table and pulled his hunting knife out of his belt. He placed the blade against his palm and began reading. “Novit Dominus videt unde omnis habitat sit abominatio revelabitur iustum.” When he finished speaking he drew the blade across his palm forcefully. Blood welled and dripped down his wrist, onto the map below. The blood did not seep into the paper as it should have, but pooled on the surface, like oil on water. After a few tense seconds, the droplets of blood began to move, sliding over the surface of the map joining and reforming until they settled in a small pool over the name of a town.

“Looks like he’s in Utah, that aint far from here. What town is that?” asked Sam trying to read the name.

“It’s Devil’s Ridge.” Dean said vehemently. “We got him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The three men ate a quiet supper that night, each of them wondering what the following day would bring. Devil’s Ridge was a strange mountainous outcropping located in Utah, it was a six day ride from Sioux Falls, and they hoped to find it and its occupant before the week was through. Bobby had offered them fresh horses and any other supplies they might need. They had thanked him heartily before retiring to bed. They shared the only spare bed in the house, laying side by side until they heard the familiar sound of Bobby snoring from the next room. Sam rolled on his side and tucked his head in the crook of his brother’s shoulder. They had always slept like this, on the occasions where they didn’t need to take shifts, even when Sam grew taller than his big brother, he never slept well outside Dean’s arms.

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s broad shoulders and pulled him closer. “It’s gonna be alright.” He spoke soothingly into Sam’s ear.

“I know. I just want this to be over.”

“So do I. Ya know I been thinkin’ bout what you said afore, bout moving on. And I think you’re right, I think we owe it to ourselves and Pa to at least try.”

“Thank you Dean.” Sam said emotion tightening his throat. “I love you.”

In answer Dean tipped Sam’s chin up and kissed him softly. They lay like that a while, lips joined in a gentle kiss, trying to give and draw strength from one another, trying to mend the ache in their hearts. It was a long time before either of them slept and when they did it was fitful and no rest was had by either of them. They awoke well before dawn and made their way into the kitchen to see Bobby already up, fixing bacon and biscuits.

They sat for a while and watched him cook in silence. He removed the biscuits from the oven and divvied them onto three tin plates, he then scooped a hearty amount of bacon onto each plate. Bobby mixed a portion of flour into the bacon grease to make gravy and then poured it over each plate. Once finished he carried them over and set them in front of the boys, who still had not spoken. They ate in silence and once finished Bobby could stand it no longer.

“Listen,” he began. “I’m goin’ with ya today, and don’t try’n change my mind cause ya won’t. I thought on it a long while and this is what I gotta do.”

“It’ll be dangerous.” Dean told him by way of dissuasion.

“Ya think I don’t know that?”

“What he’s sayin’ is this aint your fight, you aint gotta go.” Sam amended.

“Somebody’s gotta look out for ya, with your Pa gone and all. I aint havin’ Winchester blood on my hands any more’n I already do.”

“Alright.” Dean said. “We preciate it, we’re gonna need all the help we can get. He’s a slippery bastard that one.”

They packed up what gear they needed, travelling as light as they could afford to, speed would be of the essence. They needed to get to him before he moved on, or before he caught wind of their approach. The journey was long but none too difficult, they rode all day and night and at dawn on the sixth day of their journey they came to their destination. They dismounted and huddled together a few miles outside of Devil’s Ridge, they needed a plan of attack.

“What do ya’ll think?” Sam asked quietly.

“I’m thinkin’ you two distract im, while I put a bullet in his skull.” Dean replied.

Bobby shrugged. “Maybe the simplest plan is the best.”

Sam nodded, but looked unconvinced. “Alright.” He said.

They mounted their horses and spurred them into a trot, every step bringing them closer to the vengeance they had sought for damn near their whole lives. Devil’s Ridge was nothing more than a dust filled bowl, carved out of the earth and surrounded by a small chain of mountains on one side. They rode down the incline, slowing to a walk and taking in their surroundings. They saw what appeared to be an abandoned gang hideout, shoddily constructed shacks, all empty and derelict. The scattered debris strewn about spoke of a hasty exit of the previous inhabitants. They rode through the empty streets of the ghost town and saw nothing. They had begun to think that maybe Yellow Eyes had already cleared out when they heard it, a high-pitched cackling from the right.

They turned in their saddles to see a woman walk out into the street in front of them. She wore an elegant silk gown of a deep scarlet, her eyes however were black as sin. “Hiya boys,” she said in a cocky drawl. “Good to meet ya.”

“Who are ya?” asked Bobby loudly.

“Am I not who you expected? That’s a shame.” She replied with a smirk. “Name’s Ruby, and no  
need to ask yours. You’re famous round here, wanted every town this side o’ the Mississippi.”

“Where’s Yellow Eye’s.” Dean asked, voice shaking with rage.

“You’re too late, he smelled you comin’ a mile off, left me to deal with ya, said you wasn’t worth his time. Not like your Daddy was.”

“Where is he?” Dean roared pulling the colt from the holster at his hip.

“Go on and point your toy gun at me, see how far it gets ya.” Ruby said maliciously. Then she lifted her hand and the three of them were thrown off their horses, landing hard on the unforgiving earth. Dean rose and charged at her, gun raised and she snapped her fingers and he crumpled to the ground.

Ruby stood over him grinning like a cat. She pulled a vicious looking dagger from beneath one of the folds in her gown and knelt down beside Dean. Sam who had been knocked unconscious for a brief moment after the fall, came to in time to see her withdraw the dagger. He struggled to his feet and ran towards them, but he was too late. She plunged the dagger into his cheat and Sam was unaware of the scream of panic that was wrenched from his lungs. At that moment the area surrounding them was suffused in a bluish light. Ruby looked around, fear plain in her features and then she vanished in a wisp of black smoke.

Sam ran to his brother and knelt beside him. Dean was still breathing, but raggedly, he had lost a lot of blood and Sam knew he wouldn’t last much longer. The panic threatened to overtake Sam when a shadow was cast over them. Sam, thinking it was Bobby looked up and was surprised through his fear and agony to see a stranger. He had blue eyes and a long beige coat, he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“I can save him.” Was all the stranger said.

Sam looked down at Dean’s face and back at the stranger. “Alright.” He said, allowing himself to trust the man, allowing himself to hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm I wonder who the stranger is... Anyway I see y'all next week. :)


	3. Borne On Lofty Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is saved by the mysterious man for now, but there is more at work here than the boys yet understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody, here's chapter three. Hope ya like it.  
> Thanks for reading. :)

Chapter Three:  
Borne On Lofty Wings  
“It makes no difference, so I’ve been told where the body lies when life grows cold. But grant, I pray, one wish to me. O bury me not on the lone prairie.”

* * *

 

Sam stood and allowed the stranger to kneel beside his brother. He gave Dean’s wound a cursory glance and then placed two fingers on his forehead. There appeared to be a bluish glow behind Dean’s eyelids, as if something were lighting him up from the inside out. Sam waited anxiously and a moment later Booby appeared beside him, looking only slightly shaken up from the fall he had taken. They stood in tense silence, waiting for the stranger to speak. The stranger removed his fingers from Dean’s forehead and got to his feet. Sam looked to Dean, his shirt was still soaked with blood, but the wound appeared to be gone. The stranger looked at Sam his blue eyes narrowed.

“The physical wound was not the only damage done to your brother, he is still in danger. I must get him to a safe place where I may better heal him.” The stranger spoke with a gruff monotonous tone.

“Wait,” Sam interjected. “I don’t even know your name and you expect me to just hand Dean over to you, cause you say you can help. How do I even know I can trust you?”

“My name is Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord. I have been sent here for one purpose, to save your brother. You must trust me, if you refuse he will die and we will all suffer the consequences.”

“An angel?” Sam asked, shocked. “I never knew there was such things.”

“We still don’t know if we can trust ya.” Bobby said. “I don’t know bout all this angel business, but this boy has got a whole mess o’ trouble on his trail. You could be here to make sure he don’t get a chance to do what needs doin’”

“I can assure that I am not.” Castiel told them.

Sam looked knelt beside Dean again, he felt inside his shirt and smooth unbroken skin met his touch. Though the wound was healed, Dean was not alright, something was still very wrong with him. He lie still as the grave and appeared to be dead, Sam pressed two fingers to Dean’s neck and felt a weak thready pulse. The panic that had abated while the so-called angel had worked reared its ugly head once more. “We gotta do something.” Sam said to no one in particular. He rested a hand on Dean’s cheek making a silent promise to him that he would not let him die. Sam stood, filled with a cold, hard determination.

“Do what you got to.” Sam said.

“You sure that’s the right call?” Bobby asked tentatively.

“He aint gonna last much longer at this rate, I aint got a clue what’s wrong. I can’t help him, but I swear to the Lord I aint lettin’ him die.” Sam turned to Castiel who had stood by watching and waiting. “You save him, or by God you’ll have me to deal with.”

Castiel nodded. “I’ll take him to the nearest town, the two of you can meet us there.”

“Aint ya ridin’ with us?” asked Bobby confused.

“We don’t have time, I can travel much faster than a horse.

“Well git gone then.” Sam said impatiently.

“Ride to the nearest town, ask for me at the hotel, that’s where we’ll be.” Castiel knelt beside Dean once more and placed two fingers on his forehead. In a moment and with a flutter of wings, they were gone.

“We got to git after them.” Sam said striding to his horse and mounting it.

Bobby walked to his horse and pulled a lead out of his saddlebag and tying it to the bridle of Dean’s horse. He fastened the other end to the girth of his addle and then mounted up. “I hope you know what you’re doin’” was all he said.

“So do I.” replied Sam.

They tore out of Devil’s Ridge and set course for the nearest town, a little place called Sunrise. Bobby rode behind Sam, leading Dean’s horse along, hoping that he would be in the saddle again before long. It was a three hour ride and Sam spent all of those three hours trying not to think of how the blood had spurted from Dean’s chest, how still he had been, the face he loved always filled with emotion, vacant and lifeless. As they rode Sam prayed that Dean would live, that they would live to see the day they had dreamed of, together. Sam tried to believe in miracles, as if believing in them would make them true.

They arrived in Sunrise just before noon. Sam reined in his horse and looked to the man nearest him, a stout man of about fifty. “Where’s the hotel round here?” he asked quickly.

The man pointed to the north. “That way.” He said giving the two men a strange look. “At the edge of town.”

Sam tipped his hat to the man and spurred his horse in the direction the man had pointed, Bobby close behind him. They rode through the town Sam taking in none of the details, all of his mind bent on one thing, Dean. He hardly stopped long enough to hitch his horse outside the squat, unadorned building. He lept from his horse and strode into the hotel. He approached the man behind the counter, as squat and unadorned as his hotel. Sam stopped before him, breathless from emotion more than exertion. “I’m lookin’ for someone.” He said trying to conceal the urgency in his voice. “Two men, one woulda been unconscious, the other’s a fancy lookin’ fella, dark hair and blue eyes, name’s Castiel. They here?”

“Yes Sir, they come in a coupla hours ago. That other fella weren’t lookin’ too good, I asked the fancy fella if wanted me to call on the doc. He said he aint need one, all gruff and serious, weren’t very polite that one.”

“What room are they in?” asked Sam cutting off the man’s rambling.

“Oh right, I put em in 12. Up the stairs and to the right.”

Sam turned abruptly and headed for the stairs. He took them two at a time and all but ran down the hallway scanning the door numbers for the one he sought. At last he came to it, he threw the door open, forgoing the niceties of a knock. He entered the room to see Dean tucked into the only bed. Sam allowed himself a small sigh of relief. He searched the room, till he saw Castiel seated in one of the two wooden chairs in the room. He still wore his beige coat and he looked as unperturbed as he had before.

“He alright?” Sam asked breathlessly.

“He’s mending.” Was all Castiel said.

Bobby appeared behind Sam and closed the door behind him. “He’s been damn near outta his mind with worry, I think he’s gonna need a little more’n that.” He added helpfully.

“It is still unclear to me exactly what the demon did to him, but it appears she has damaged him from within, his very soul. Now how a low level demon could accomplish such a thing I do not know. It is possible for angels to do such things, but I have not seen it done for an immensely long time.” Castiel finished speaking and looked at Sam. “Is that sufficient?”

“His soul?” asked Sam ignoring Castiel’s question. “Will he be alright?”

“Yes, I have done all I can for now, but he is strong. When he awakes he will be undamaged.”

Sam let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and sat heavily on the chair beside the bed on which Dean lay. “When will he wake?”

“It’s hard to say, it depends on how hard he’s fighting to come back.” Castiel said quietly.

“He’ll wake soon.” Sam said knowingly. “He’ll be alright.”

Bobby rested a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’m goin’ ta get a room, it’s been a while since I seent so much action. This old man needs some rest.”

“Alright.” Sam said not taking his eye off Dean.

“Ya know, you could use some rest too.”

“I’m just fine.” Sam told him. “Sides, I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

Bobby left the room and a few moments later Castiel rose from his chair. “There isn’t anything more I can do for him now. I’ll give you some time with him, I’ll check in on him later.”

“Thank ya much, Castiel. I don’t know what Id’ve done if he…” Sam trailed off, the thought too painful.

“I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen to either of you.”

“You’ll explain yourself when he wakes up, won’t ya. Tell us what the hell an angels doin’ lookin’ over the likes o’ the Winchesters?”

“Of course I will, when he awakens.”

With the fluttering of wings Castiel was gone. Sam reached forward and took Dean’s hand. He looked into his brother’s face, longing to see a flash of green. He sat a long while, holding Dean’s hand before he spoke in a halting voice. “Ya know,” he said to the unconscious man before him. “I think this is the longest I ever gone ‘thout hearin’ you laugh. I never told you this, I know how ya hate this simpering stuff, bout feelings and all. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that you’re the only thing that’s made huntin’ worthwhile for me. Weren’t for Id’ve given it up a long time ago. I could never leave you Dean, I love you too damn much, and I know how ya hate it when I say that. Like if ya let yourself love somebody, you’ll lose em, like Ma and Pa. Well I’m tellin’ ya right now, I aint goin’ anywhere, not ever. It’s you and me, always. So you can’t give up now, like Castiel said, you’re strong Dean. You gotta come back alright, please come back. I can’t do this ‘thout you.”

Sam stopped speaking his throat becoming too constricted to form words. He just held Dean’s hand and waited, waited for his life to come back to him.

 

* * *

 

 

Sam had fallen asleep, his head resting on the bed Dean’s hand still clasped in his own. Dean awoke to find him like that. He smiled to himself at how young Sam looked his hair all mussed from the way he’d fallen asleep, hat on the floor beside him, forgotten. He almost didn’t want to wake him, just wanted to watch him a little longer. He did wake him however, by running the hand that was not in Sam’s grasp through his hair, gently smoothing it into some semblance of neatness. Sam awoke with a start and looked up. The moment his eyes landed on Dean, awake and smiling, his face broke out in a radiant grin.

“Dean.” He said quietly.

“Yeah Sammy.”

“I thought I lost you.” Sam said in a small voice. “I was so scared.”

“Hey, listen ta me. I aint goin’ anywhere, not now or ever. You’re stuck with me cowboy, whether ya like it or not.”

“I like it.” Sam told him blinking back the tears that had suddenly filled his eyes.

“Good.” Dean said, smiling softly. “Now c’mere will ya. I can’t reach ya.”

Sam leaned forward and met Dean’s lips in a kiss aching with relief and emotion. They parted a moment later. “What happened exactly?” Dean asked. “I remember runnin’ at that demon an’ then ever’thin is a blank.”

“Well uh, you got saved.” Sam said with a sly smile.

“Saved by who?”

“An angel.”

“A what?”

“You heard me, an angel o’ the Lord showed up, chased the demon off and saved ya.” Sam told him, relishing the look of disbelief on his face.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Dean said, a look of wonder in his features Sam had rarely seen there. “So uh, where is this angel?”

“Said he’d be back a little later to check on ya.” And as if on cue Castiel appeared in the room, preceded by the fluttering of wings. Dean started violently at the appearance and looked from Castiel to Sam, mouth slightly agape.

“You’ve awoken sooner than I had expected. How are you feeling?” Castiel asked Dean.

“I’m feelin’ alright, a little wore out is all.” Dean said. “Does anyone mind tellin’ me what the hell is goin’ on here?”

Sam looked at Castiel expectantly. “I will fetch Bobby, it would be easier if you all heard it at once.” Castiel vanished and a second later he reappeared, Bobby in tow.

“Ya didn’t have ta zap me over, I was just down the hall. I coulda walked, I aint cripple ya know.” Bobby grumbled before he caught sight of Dean. “Well I’ll be damned, I knew you was tough, son. You alright?”

“I’m just fine, a mite confused, but fine. First off, what happened to me, I don’t remember nothin’?”

“The demon you faced in Devil’s Ridge.”

“Ruby.” Dean said cutting him off.

“Yes, the demon Ruby used an archaic, but devastating power to damage your soul. She herself was not powerful enough to cause any serious damage that I could not reverse, but the fact that she possesses this power at all has been very worrying.”

“Castiel here showed up, just in the nick o’ time. Got ya outta there and brought ya here. He saved ya.” Sam said.

“And that’s it, I mean it’s all over. I’m healthy as a bronco an we can go on huntin’ Yellow Eyes?”

“I’m afraid it is not as simple as that,” Castiel said. “There are many things you do not understand yet.”

“Such as?” Sam asked.

“This demon you hunt, Yellow Eyes he is the least of your problems. There is so much more in motion than you realize. Azazel, the one you call Yellow Eyes is not working alone. His master is one more dangerous than any you have ever encountered. It was not clear to me before how the demon Ruby could possess such power, power that has only ever been used by one angel. I did not want to believe it, and while Dean slept I checked with another angel, one whom I trust very much. What I had feared has unfortunately come to pass.”

“Would you mind not talkin’ in riddles and just gettin’ to the damn point?” Dean asked impatiently.

“The angel who governs an army of demons, who at this moment plans to raze humanity to the ground, is the fallen angel Lucifer.”

“Ya mean the Devil?” asked Bobby in disbelief.

“I am afraid so.” Castiel said. “How his return has gone beyond my notice for so long, I do not know. What I do know is that you three and myself have been chosen by God, to stop him, to put an end to this before it even begins.”

“And what is this, exactly?” asked Sam.

“The apocalypse.”

A weighty silence followed Castiel’s words and the three men looked at each other, trying to gauge each other’s reaction to the news. Dean was the first to speak. “Well so much for killin’ ol’ Yellow Eyes, then retirin’ to the quiet life.”

“No rest for the wicked, I guess.” Bobby added.

Sam looked to Castiel. “How are we gonna stop the Devil himself?”

“I do not know yet, but I believe Azazel is the key. He is Lucifer’s right hand, if we can find him, I believe he will have information crucial to our cause.”

“Well good luck,” Dean told him with a scoff. “We been huntin’ Yellow Eyes damn near our whole lives, our Pa too and the closest we ever got to him was the day he cut our Pa down.”

Castiel gave Dean a stern look. “We will find him.”

“I’ll make a deal with ya, we find im’ like ya says and we get outta him what ya need, then I get to kill the sumbitch.” Dean said viciously.

“That sounds agreeable.” Castiel said. “I must go now, time is of the essence and we have already wasted so much.”

“Well what are we supposed ta do while you’re gone?” asked Bobby.

“Stay alert and wait for me, I will not be gone long.”

“So we just gonna sit on our asses and wait around for ya, that it?” Dean said angrily.

“It’ll be alright Dean,” Sam said. “You got restin’ up to do, sides we’ll find us plenty to keep busy with.”

Dean said nothing, but Sam knew he was on his side. He turned to Castiel. “Thank ya for all you done.”

“There is no need to thank me.” Castiel said. “I will return shortly.” And in another moment he was gone.

The room was plunged into a tense silence, broken only when Bobby quietly got up and left the room. Sam and Dean were left alone and it was a long time before either of them said anything. It was Sam who spoke first. “Quite the mess this turned out ta be, aint it?”

“Well it aint ever been easy for us, but looks like we got a lot o’ work to do.” Dean said with a sigh.

“You think we’ll ever have that quiet life, like we been talkin’ bout?”

“I don’t know Sam, I really don’t. All I know is that we’re doin’ this thing together. You an me, like always.”

Sam nodded smiling slightly. “There aint a chance ya heard any o’ what I said to ya when you was out, is there?”

Dean grinned. “I recall there bein’ some very purty words.”

“Alright.” Sam said, a little embarrassed.

“Honest Sam, I didn’t know ya had it in ya.”

“If you wasn’t sick, I’d-“

“You’d what?” Dean cut him off, playfully.

“We’re gonna be alright, aint we Dean?” Sam asked his expression becoming serious. “I mean we aint gonna end up like Pa?”

“I won’t let that happen, Sammy.” Dean said sincerely. “It’s been my job since afore I can remember to look after ya, an I aint quittin’ now. We’ll be alright, I promise ya.”

Dean hoped his words were enough to assuage the fear he saw creeping into Sam’s face and hoped also that he had spoken true, but something in the back of his mind, skulking evilly, told him that he had perhaps spoken too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See ya next time then.


	4. The Lives Of The Wicked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dean regains his strength following the disastrous events at Devil's Ridge, the boys wait for Castiel to return, but they find themselves drawn into an unexpected hunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the explicit rating takes effect this chapter, just so ya know. Anyways thanks for reading. :)

Chapter Four:  
The Lives Of The Wicked  
“I’ve often wished to be laid when I die by the little church on the green hillside, by my father’s grave, there let mine be.”

* * *

 

Castiel had been gone for three days and Dean’s strength was slowly returning to him. He was able to walk and ride with no pain, but too much activity tired him out something fierce. The nightmares that he had been plagued with since the death of his mother also grew more frequent and more horrifying. They were filled with hellish phantasms even Dean could not have imagined in his waking hours. He did not tell Sam the nature of these dreams, not wanting to worry his brother any more than he already had. He kept them to himself and tried not to dwell on the horror that came with them. He was getting restless though, a man of action such as himself was loathe to spend time idly.

On the fourth day of Castiel’s absence Dean had had enough. “We got to do somethin’.” He said to Sam that afternoon.

“What do ya mean?” asked Sam. “We can’t do nothin’ till Castiel gets back and hell if I know when that’ll be.”

“Well I can’t just lay aroun’ doin’ nothin’.”

“You’re still on the mend, so I think that’s exactly what you should be doin’”

“Well I don’t like it.” Dean grumbled.

“I don’t like any of this.” Sam admitted.

“Let’s go out an git ourselves a drink at least, pass the time.”

Sam looked worried. “I don’t know bout that Dean. You recall what happened last time we got ourselves a drink?”

“It aint like that here, these people are so far from anythin’ they hardly even heard o’ the Winchesters.”

“If it’ll make ya feel better.” Sam agreed half-heartedly.

“That’s my boy.” Dean crowed with delight. “Bobby’s out on a ride, guess we’ll catch up with im later.”

And so an hour later the boys sat in a dusty corner of the local saloon, sipping rotgut and relaxing as well as a wanted man can. They spoke sparingly, the only things on their minds the kind you can’ talk of in public. So they sat in relative silence and drank. They had been in the saloon for a few hours and were about ready to head out when a man burst through the doors, breathless and panic stricken. He was a man of thirty or so and wore the badge of a deputy pinned to his herringbone vest. His eyes wide with terror, he shouted for the whole place to hear.

“The sheriff’s been kilt, I found im in the bush, like all the others. Somethin’ tore him all ta hell and I’m tellin’ like I told ya’ll afore it weren’t no animal this time.”

He finished his tirade and the man behind the bar spoke soothingly to him. “Listen here son, we all heard your wild theories, and I’m tellin’ you them fellas was kilt by wolves, or some such.”

“Come see im then, come see for yaself.” The deputy said angrily.

The barman sighed and turned from the deputy and seeing that no one else was paying him any attention, he turned and left the saloon. The two men in the corner shared a look and leaned forward and murmured quietly so that no one else would hear. “Now that sounds like our kinda thing.”

“No it don’t Dean, it sounds like that deputy don’t know his ass from his elbow. Sides you aint well enough for a hunt.”

“The hell I aint well enough, if there’s a job needs doin’ we gotta do it. It’s what Pa taught us, it’s what he woulda wanted.” Dean spoke with conviction.

Sam sighed in defeat. “Alright, let’s go talk to the deputy.”

They left the saloon and made their way down to the sheriff’s office to look for the deputy. They entered the office and found the deputy they sought, sitting behind the sheriff’s desk head in hands. They approached him and he looked up, suspicion etched into the lines of his face.

“Hey there fella,” Dean said genially. “How are ya?”

“How you think I am? Whole damn town thinks I lost my marbles, hell maybe theys right.” The deputy said forlornly.

“Ya mind tellin’ us bout it, maybe we can help.” Said Sam.

“Why would you believe me when nobody else has?”

“We aint just anybody.” Dean said. “Tell us what happened. There aint no harm in tellin’ is there?”

“I guess not.” The deputy said. “Name’s Floyd by the way, Floyd Sweet.”

“Good ta meet ya Floyd.” Sam said. “Now let’s hear this tale o’ yours.”

Floyd cleared his throat and began, a bit nervously at first, but becoming more comfortable as his story progressed. “Well I been a deputy in this here town goin’ on five years now an in all that time, we gone through five different sheriffs. I tell ya theys been droppin’ like flies and it aint just since I started here neither. This been goin’ on for near on ten years now. I can’t explain it, but somethin’ is agoin’ on an I aim to find out what once an for all. Ya see we aint been able to hold onto a sheriff for more’n a year an folks round here keep they eyes wide shut if ya know what I mean, but some folks is different. Some folks is like me, they think the job’s been cursed.”

“Cursed?” interjected Dean. “By who?”

“Well there’s a story round here, a kind o’ ghost story, bout an old gunslinger. Ya see this gunslinger, name o’ Jonah Williamson, he was known in his day as one o’ the fastest draws in the west an a killer like ya never seen afore. He was wanted all round these parts, but nobody was ever quick enough to get the jump on im. Ol’ Jonah rode into Sunrise one night an the sheriff knowed he was comin’. He set a trap for im, lured im out to edge of town, shot im in the back like a coward. Now the story goes that afore Jonah died, he cursed that ol’ sheriff and all that followed im. Since then ever sheriff we had died afore they been at it a year an they died bloody. Nobody wants to believe its Jonah, but I know somethin’ aint right round here.”

“Alright,” Sam said. “We believe you, now we just gotta stop Jonah from killin’ any more o’ your sheriffs.”

“How you gonna do that?” asked Floyd.

“You let us worry bout that.” Dean said.

The boys left the sheriff’s office and slowly made their way back to the hotel to meet up with Bobby. As they walked Sam peered at his brother, not bothering to mask the worry on his face. “You should be sittin’ this one out.” He said. “You aint well enough yet.”

“I’m fine Sam,” Dean replied, irritated. “I aint made o’ glass alright. Folks is dyin’ round here and we gotta put an end to it. That’s it.”

Sam remained silent for the rest of the journey, but the argument was far from over. They entered the hotel and made their way up to Bobby’s room. Sam knocked on the door and a gruff voice replied a second later. “Come in.” it said.

They entered the room to find Bobby sitting at the small table in the corner, cleaning his guns. Dean took a seat opposite Bobby at the table, while Sam sat himself on the end of the bed. Bobby looked at them a little suspiciously. “Somethin’ you gotta tell me?” he asked.

“We found a hunt.” Dean said before Sam got the chance to speak. “Right here in town.”

“What kinda hunt?” asked Bobby with a calculating expression.

“Vengeful spirit by the sounds of it. I say we take care of it afore Castiel gets back.” Dean said. “Give us somethin’ to do at least.”

“You almost died Dean,” Sam broke in, unable to keep his peace any longer. “Huntin’ aint what you should be doin’ right now. Tell im Bobby.”

Bobby looked between them uncertainly for a moment. “Sounds to me like we got ourselves a hunt an if they’s somethin’ needs killin’ here then it’s our responsibility to do the killin’”

“Yeah but” Sam burst in angrily.

“Now let me finish.” Bobby said before Sam could get started. “All I’m sayin’ is this case needs to be worked, I aint sayin’ who should be workin’ it.”

“So we take care of it ourselves, that way Dean don’t get hurt.” Sam said. “That’s fine.”

“The hell it is.” Dean cut in loudly. “You think I’m just gonna sit here while they’s things need killin’?”

“That’s exactly what you gonna do.” Sam said firmly.

“That so?” asked Dean, voice dripping with challenge.

“Alright enough, the both o’ ya.” Bobby said authoritatively. “Dean is a grown man, he can make his own choices.”

“Thank ya.” Dean said.”

“Now you also gotta understand where Sam’s comin’ from here. You didn’t see how close to dyin’ you really was so, you aint got the first clue o’ how he feels. Now I’m sayin’ this right now, we work this thing together an we look out for each other an no one gits hurt.”

The boys looked at each other before nodded half-heartedly. “Good.” Bobby said. “Now this spirit, who is it?”

“Locals think he’s an ol’ gunslinger, name o’ Jonah Williamson.” Sam said.

“Well we got to find this Jonah Williamson then, salt n’ burn the bones an be done with it.”

“Sam an I’ll find out where they laid ol’ Jonah to rest. We’ll be needin’ salt rounds for when we find im, case he gits the drop on us.” Said Dean.

“I can handle that, you two find im an don’t take all day.” Bobby said gruffly.

Sam and Dean left the hotel once more and hesitated in the street a moment. “Where do ya reckon they keep the records round here?” Dean asked.

“Town this small won’t have a city hall, we can try the Mayor’s office.”

“Alright then.” Dean agreed. “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

They sat surrounded by countless stacks of paper, records stretching back decades. The sifted through them in silence, looking for any mention of a Jonah Williamson. They had been at it for hours and they had not found a single thing even hinting that Jonah had ever been in Sunrise, let alone that he had died there.

“Ya know,” said Dean throwing down the paper he held. “You’d think they’d o’ had some record o’ this fella dyin’ here. I mean if he was as bad as that deputy said, they woulda wanted to take credit for killin’ im.”

“Yeah well maybe they kept it hushed on account o’ the sheriff’s cowardice.”

“Maybe.” Dean admitted, rubbing a hand wearily over his face.

“How ya feelin’?” Sam asked. “Cause if ya tired, I’ll keep at it, you can go back an get some rest.”

“I’m fine Sam.” Dean assured him. “You aint got to worry.”

“I aint stopped worryin’ since Devil’s Ridge.” Sam said quietly.

“Well you can stop, I’m alright.”

“You say that, but you aint seent what happened to ya. She jammed that blade into your heart an I thought you was dead right then, an you lyin’ on that bed, so still like. I don’t know what’d I’d do if I lost ya.”

“I told ya, that aint gonna happen. An I aint losin’ you neither.” Dean said resting his hand over Sam’s on the table. “Sammy you’re all I got, you’re my heart an soul. That’s how I come back to ya, I couldn’t go, knowin’ you was still here. An I never will, I love you.”

Sam blinked the tears out of his eyes and nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He looked down for a distraction from Dean’s gentle green eyes and his overwhelming love that Sam had never felt worthy of. He caught sight of something on a document under the one he’d recently abandoned. He picked it up and handed it to Dean with a smile that was about more than just the case. “Looks like we found our man.” He said, voice a little shaky.

Dean took the document from him and perused it quickly. “Sandhill Cemetery.” He said returning Sam’s smile. “Good work Sammy. Now let’s git outta here an find Bobby.”

They rushed back to the hotel to share their findings with Bobby. They found him in his room, much like they had earlier, only this time he was packing salt into shotgun shells from a ten pound bag at his feet. “We found im.” Sam said as they entered the room.

“Alright well I’m bout done here. What do ya say, wanta go for im tonight?” Bobby asked.

“I don’t see why we should wait. Castiel could turn up at any minute an we gotta git this done afore he does.” Dean replied.

They agreed that they would go after Jonah’s spirit that night, after sundown when nobody would see them. They only had a few hours to kill before the sun went down and they spent them making all of the final preparations. Dean had insisted on going with them and Sam had not argued with him. Bobby was eager to get going, it had been quite a while since he had played such a hands on role in a hunt. Of late he had been behind a desk for the most part, helping with research for other hunters. He enjoyed his little farmhouse and seldom left it, but he could not deny that it felt good to be getting back in the saddle.

They snuck out of the hotel well after sunset, making certain they were seen by no one. They walked their horses to the outskirts of town so that nobody would hear them and get curious. They mounted their horses once at a safe distance and began the four mile ride to Sandhill Cemetery. The cemetery had long stood abandoned having been created and filled during a cholera outbreak and been forgotten just as quickly. It was now reserved for any undesirables deemed unfit for the new cemetery. After a half hours ride, they stopped before the large rusted cemetery gates.

The three men dismounted and walked through the gates, each of them carrying gas lamps by which to light their paths. They split up without a word and began searching for the right headstone. They walked from row to row, crouched low to read the faded names on the tombstones. It was slow going and a deep ache began in Sam’s back after an hours search. Sam was about to suggest that maybe the record had been mistaken, that maybe Jonah Williamson had never been buried there at all when Dean straightened up and called to him quietly.

“I got im Sammy.” He said triumphantly.

Sam moved silently to where Dean was standing, motioning for Bobby to follow him. The three of them stood over a worn tombstone bearing the words in faded letters.

Jonah Williamson  
died 1838  
May the lives of the wicked be made brief.

Dean handed one of the two shovels he had been carrying to Sam. They set down their lamps and got to work digging the grave. Bobby stood over them holding a double barreled shotgun loaded with salt rounds. They had hoped that Jonah’s curse only extended to the local sheriffs, but they were taking no chances. Sam stopped several times to check on Dean, asking if he needed to rest. Dean refused every time and would not let show how exhausted he was becoming. The ground was hard and unforgiving and it took them over two hours to excavate the unadorned wooded coffin of Jonah Williamson. They were grateful that he had not been buried deeper, his gravediggers clearly uncaring of what became of him.

Just as they had removed the cover from the coffin they heard something from above. Behind Bobby stood the ghostly apparition of a man, haggard from the road and wearing worn leather chaps and bearing two fine looking pistols on his hips. “Bobby!” Sam yelled. “Behind you!”

Bobby whirled around and fired a shot at Jonah, who dissipated the moment the shell passed through him. Bobby turned back to them briefly. “You wanna git going with that?” he asked.

Sam grabbed one of the lamps and emptied the remaining oil onto the greatly decayed corpse, while Dean coated it in a layer of salt. They climbed out of the grave as Jonah reappeared, but this time Bobby was not quick enough. He was thrown clear of the grave and landed heavily. Jonah advanced on the brothers reaching for the gun on his hip. Dean pulled a match from his breast pocket and popped it with his thumbnail. “Burn in hell ya son of a bitch.” He said tossing the match into the grave.

They watched as ol’ Jonah burst into flames before them. When he was gone they rushed to help Bobby. They got him to his feet and he stood a little unsteadily. “Well they wasn’t lyin’ bout how fast that bastard was.” He said before turning and walking out of the cemetery.

Sam and Dean shared a fond look and followed him. Back at the hotel they parted ways and Bobby entered his room, exhausted. The two brothers retreated to their room and Dean took Sam into his bed and stripped him of all his clothing, running his hands along the smooth planes of his brother’s body. Dean reaffirmed what he had said to Sam earlier, but with his lips and tongue, pressing kisses to every golden inch of skin he could find. He met Sam’s lips in the darkened room, trying to drink down his pain and fear, to take it all in so that Sam may have an ounce of peace. Sam returned the kiss fiercely, as he meant to do the same.

Sam undressed Dean, slowly and teasingly and when he finally had his brother naked before him, all gentle curves of muscle and soft freckled skin, they were both hard and breathing heavy. Sam grabbed the lamp from the table by the bed and poured some of the oil into his hand. He coated his fingers in it and returned to Dean. He fucked Dean open slow and sweet with his fingers, drinking in the little sounds of pleasure he made, watching his eyelids flutter with it. It was a few minutes before Dean gasped into the silence of the room.

“Sam please.” He said raggedly. “I need you.”

Sam reached back to the table for more oil, this time slicking his aching cock with it. He slotted himself between his brother’s legs and leaned down to kiss him as he pushed inside. Dean gasped into his mouth as Sam entered him, stretching him almost to the point of pain. Sam bottomed out and paused a moment to look into Dean’s eyes, the most beautiful shade of green he had ever seen, softened by desire and love. Sam could see the need there and he obliged Dean’s silent request. He slipped out of Dean and thrust back in slowly, he made love to him, slow and quiet and achingly tender.

Mindful of Bobby in the next room they remained silent, holding each other so tightly. Dean wrapped his legs around Sam’s waist and the changed angle sent a wave of pleasure through both of them. Sam could feel the sweet sting of pleasure coiling in his stomach and knew he was close. He reached between their bodies and wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock, it was all Dean could do not to cry out. Sam fisted his cock precum slicking his way, relishing in the slide of skin on skin. Sam thrust into Dean harder, fucking him into the mattress and he could see from the way that Dean’s head was thrown back in wanton ecstasy, that his brother was close.

Sam thrust into Dean once more and came, burying his face in Dean’s neck to keep from making a sound. He licked a long line up Dean’s neck, tasting salt and gunpowder. He looked into Dean’s eyes as he stroked him faster. Another moment had Dean spilling his seed over Sam’s hand. Sam pressed his other hand over Dean’s mouth to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. Sam slipped out of Dean, both men hissing at slide of over sensitized flesh. Sam collapsed next to his brother and pulled him into his arms. They didn’t speak after, they didn’t need to. They held each other tightly long into the night and when the sun rose in the morning, it seemed to shine out the clearer and they each thought that everything would be alright as long as they had each other. It always had been after all.


	5. Let That Be Your Final Battleground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters go after Yellow Eyes once more, this time with backup and a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heres chapter five, hope ya enjoy.  
> Thanks for reading.

Chapter Five:  
Let That Be Your Final Battle Ground  
“The cowboys gathered all around the bed to hear the last word that their comrade said. O partners all, take a warning from me. Never leave your homes for the lone prairie.”

* * *

 

 

The morning after they had taken care of Jonah Williamson, Sam and Dean headed down to the sheriff’s office to let Floyd know that the town wouldn’t be losing any more sheriffs from then on. Floyd didn’t ask them how they had done it, but he was certainly grateful. It left a pleasant feeling in Dean’s chest. It always made him feel good, helping people. It seemed to be about revenge more than anything lately and to just help someone was a nice change. Dean was also feeling rather buoyant from the night he’d spent with Sam. As they walked back to the hotel they kept sharing shy smiles, it wasn’t often they got to spend a night together like that and it always meant the world when they could.

They entered Bobby’s room a while later and sat down on his bed. He sat at the table cleaning his guns for what must have been the hundredth time. They didn’t like to pass time idly, and though they had just worked a case the night before, they were back to a whole mess of nothing to do. Sam figured he and Dean could go for a ride later if nothing of interest came up, maybe get a drink. There was little else to do in Sunrise and they thought perhaps a little more pleasure could be wrung from mundane activities. Bobby looked up from his work with an irritated expression.

“Are you boys just gonna sit there an watch me all damn day, or aint ya gonna do nothin’?”

“Hell there aint much to do.” Dean said gruffly.

“We could go for a ride, you still aint been able to ride long since you was hurt. Got to get ya back in that saddle.” Sam said with a smirk.

“Yeah well I’m sick o’ ridin’ an sick o’ drinkin’”

“I never thought I’d see the day. Dean Winchester tired o’ drinkin’.” Sam said in mock surprise.

“Well where is Castiel anyway? I mean you’d think im bein’ an angel o’ the lord an all, it wouldn’t take half a minute to find Yellow Eyes an we been waitin’ aroun near on a week.”

“Well it took Pa 22 years to find im, he’s a wily bastard.” Sam replied.

“I just wanta put this mess behind me.” Dean admitted.

“You aint the only one.” Bobby said. “Now both o’ ya, git outta here. You’re ruinin’ my peace.”

The boys got up from the bed and headed for the door, when something suddenly appeared in front of them. That something was Castiel, he glanced at them brow furrowed. “You’re all here, good. I have news.”

“An what news is this?” asked Dean quickly.

“I have located Azazel.”

“You found Yellow Eyes?” Sam asked in shock. “How far?”

“He is in Tombstone, Arizona, just north of the Mexican border.” Replied Castiel.

“An there’s no chance he’ll catch wind o’ us and turn tail?” asked Bobby. “All we need is a repeat o’ last time.”

“I can assure you, there is no way that he will know we are coming.” Castiel said calmly. “I would suggest you gather any allies you have to assist you. This is going to be difficult and dangerous.”

“Hell, Bobby’s all we got by way o’ friends.” Dean admitted. “Pa wasn’t real sociable.”

“I know some folks might be willin’ to help.” Bobby chimed in. “They run a saloon called the Roadhouse, Ellen and her daughter Jo. Been in the life a long time now, good people. It’s right on the way, we could stop in an ask em if they wanta ride along.”

“That is agreeable.” Castiel said. “I will stay in the area to ensure that he doesn’t flea while you find these people. I hope you are successful, you’re going to need all the help you can find.”

“Where will we find ya in Tombstone once we get there?”

“I will be staying at the inn there under the name, Johnson.” Replied Castiel. “I also have something that may be of assistance to you.” Castiel reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a piece of paper with a drawing on it. He handed it to Dean and he looked it over, it was a pentagram, but with strange symbols filling the empty spaces.

“What is this?” he asked confused.

“It is a Devil’s trap.” Replied Castiel. “If you lure a demon inside he will become trapped.”

“Damn this woulda come in handy a long time ago. Thank ya Castiel.” Said Dean.

“Remember we need him alive. I wish you a safe journey and I will see you all soon.”

In another moment, Castiel was gone. “Well I guess you got your wish, Dean.” Bobby said.

Dean just nodded, his expression grim. They began gathering all of the supplies that they would need for the journey and packing what they could into their saddlebags. It was three day ride to Miner’s Pike, the old mining town whose sole attraction was the Roadhouse, the best damn saloon north of the border. It would be another two day ride beyond Miner’s Pike to Tombstone. The preparations took longer than they had expected and it was a full day before they were able to set out. The deputy, Floyd Sweet saw them off, wishing them a safe journey and thanking them again for the help they had been to him.

Dean didn’t relax until they were on the road, an anxiousness had been growing in him since his brush with death and he was eager to see the end of the hunt. He understood now why Sam so desperately wanted out of the life, and if he was honest with himself he was beginning to agree with his brother. But more than that he understood how Sam longed for a normal life, the way he always had. How he wanted nothing more than a few acres to farm and to sleep peacefully after a day’s work. He wanted to live honest and true and to stop running. Dean could hardly argue with that and he wished for nothing more than Sam’s happiness. Now he was just waiting, waiting for the sun to set on a long, hard day, so that the next could dawn still brighter and lovelier than the one before.

The days passed slowly and without event on the road. They tried in vain to keep the dust out, but it crept into their possessions and places on themselves that dust had no business being. Dean complained incessantly about the sand in his drawers and Sam would have thought it was funny if it wasn’t so irritating. After three days, tired and dirty they rode into Miner’s Pike. Bobby led the way through the town and stopped before a low wooden building. He dismounted and Sam and Dean followed suit. They brushed what dust they could from themselves and as Bobby turned to walk into the place Sam spoke.

“Hadn’t we better wash up first?” he asked.

“Trust me,” Bobby said. “They’ve seen worse.”

Sam shrugged and they followed him into the saloon. There wasn’t much to it, a long bar and booths along the right wall, but it was clean and it had a homey sort of feeling to it. The place was all but empty, a few patrons at the bar and a woman in her late forties stood wiping down the counter. She turned to them and recognition entered her features. She wore her dark hair in a twist at the base of her neck and custom be damned she was dressed much as they were; chambray shirt and trousers. She had a careworn face and kind eyes that were framed in soft wrinkles. She smiled as they approached the bar.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” She said. “Bobby Singer as I live and breathe.”

“Now don’t get too excited, I’m here on business.” Bobby said with a fond smile.

“And what business would that be?” she asked eyeing Sam and Dean a little distrustfully.

“These here are John Winchesters boys. I’m helpin’ them take down Yellow Eyes.” Bobby said turning to Sam and Dean. “This is Ellen Harvelle, she runs the place.”

Ellen looked at Booby in shock. “Have you lost your damn mind?” she hissed fiercely, ignoring the boys entirely. “What in the hell you wanna do a thing like that for?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot more to it than ya think.” Bobby told her.

Ellen looked between Sam and Dean. “I heard about your Pa,” she said. “It’s a damn shame, he was one o’ the best hunters I ever knew.”

“Thank ya Ma’am.” Dean said. “That’s real nice o’ you to say.”

Ellen looked at Bobby again and then gave a whistle. “I’m gonna wanna hear this story o’ yours.” She said, shaking her head. “I thought you was done with this damn witch hunt a long time ago.”

“So did I.” replied Bobby as a young girl of about nineteen approached them.

“You whistled for me Ma?” she asked Ellen. She was a beautiful girl, with long yellow hair which she wore loose about her shoulders and laughter in her eyes and like her mother, she wore jeans and an oversized blue chambray shirt, on her feet she wore thick soled boots.

“I need you to look after the place while I talk to these fellas.” Ellen told her.

“What’s goin’ on Ma?” the girl asked.

“I’ll tell ya later, just do as I ask.”

The girl nodded and replaced her mother behind the bar as Ellen led them to an empty booth. They all sat down and before they got to talking Sam looked around nervously.

“Are we sure we wanna talk about this here?” he asked. “It wouldn’t do for anyone to hear what we gotta tell.”

“Don’t worry yourself none.” Ellen reassured him. “Only folks that come through here are hunters.”

Sam nodded, relived and the three of them proceeded to tell her exactly what had brought them to her doorstep. It was a while before they told all they had to tell and when they were finished, Ellen looked between them looking for any deceit, but she found only truth.

“That’s a whole damn mess o’ trouble you found yourselves.” She said with a sigh.

“We were hopin’ that maybe you could help us out with it.” Sam said carefully. “Bobby says you’re one o’ the best hunters he knows.”

“Well he would say that.” Replied Ellen looking at Bobby affectionately. Her expression grew serious as she continued. “What kinda help did ya have in mind?”

“This is gonna be a helluva hunt and we’re gonna need as many hands as we can get.” Dean told her. “This aint about revenge anymore, this is people’s lives, hell the whole damn world.”

Ellen nodded. “I’ll talk to Jo first, see what she thinks.”

“Thank ya.” Bobby said warmly.

“Ya’ll can stay here till I make up my mind, there’s a few empty rooms upstairs.” Ellen got to her feet and gave them a curt nod before rejoining her daughter at the bar.

“What do ya think?” asked Dean after she’d gone.

“She’s a smart woman and a damn fine one too. She knows what’s at stake and I know she’ll make the right decision.” Bobby said.

“You didn’t let on how well you knew her.” Sam said with a smile.

“Well that aint any o’ you’re concern, boy.” Bobby said, coloring slightly.

They stayed at their booth and had a few drinks before retiring to the rooms given them to wait. Once the saloon had closed Ellen and Jo had retreated to Ellen’s room to talk things over. There was silence in the room where the three men sat and waited, but after a while they heard voices raised in anger. They looked uneasily at each other as the shouting grew in volume and intensity. It was a while longer before the door opened and the two women stepped though.

Ellen spoke up first. “Looks like we’re goin’ along with ya.” She said a hint of resentment in her voice.

“Both o’ ya?” Bobby asked surprised. “You sure about that?”

“I aint a little kid anymore.” Jo said speaking up for the first time. “I can handle myself an if there’s trouble goin’ down then I’m helpin’ ya’ll.” She finished speaking and eyed the men in the room, as if daring them to challenge her.

“She refuses to be left behind.” Said Ellen. “So I guess she’s comin’ along.”

“Well we need all the help we can get. Thank ya Jo, its good ta meet ya.” Dean said tipping his hat to her.

“Thank ya both.” Sam said earnestly. “We preciate your help, we really do.”

“We’ll be ready to head out tomorra, I expect you fellas got a plan.” Ellen said.

“Yes Ma’am.” Sam said. “We got im this time.”

They rode for Tombstone at dawn the following morning. Ellen had closed the saloon and packed what little she and Jo would need onto two dun mares. Ellen and Jo were experienced riders and they made good time. In two days they were entering Tombstone to put an end to an age long hunt for vengeance and justice. They rode straight to the inn and asked for Johnson. They were given a room number and they all tramped up the stairs to meet with the angel. He was sitting quietly in the corner when they entered and he looked pleased when he saw them.

“You’ve brought backup, excellent.” He said. “Azazel has not moved.”

“Where is the bastard?” asked Dean harshly.

“He’s been holed up at a cathouse in town, called Lady Suzette’s.” Castiel replied. “I have already made the acquaintance of Miss Suzette and I believe I can get you access to plant a trap for the demon.”

“Well it looks like you been havin’ a good time, making acquaintances with ladies o’ the night.” Dean said with a laugh.

Castiel coked his head a confused expression on his face. “I do not understand what her profession has to do with anything.”

Dean shook his head still smiling. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“So when are we doin’ this?” asked Ellen.

“Tonight if you are ready. If we linger too long he may catch wind of us as he did before and then we may never find him.”

“We’re ready.” Said Sam. “When can ya get us into the cathouse?”

“We can go now, she doesn’t usually open until the evening and we can get in and out before Azazel arrives. I’ll only need one of you to accompany me.” Castiel said.

“Alright I’ll go.” Dean said.

Castiel stepped forward and placed two fingers to Dean’s forehead and in another moment they were alone in a dark room. It was large and lavishly furnished. The room was filled with sofas and divans draped in all manner of silk and velvet. There was a small bar in one corner and a place where a man might play some music beside it.

 

“I have learned from Suzette that Azazel and his demons have commandeered this corner here every night for the last few weeks now.” Castiel said pointing to the right hand corner of the room which was partly obscured from view by heavy draperies of red velvet.

“I’ll put it here, under this rug.” Dean said pointing to the floor. “He’ll never see it.”

“Alright.” Said Castiel handing Dean a small pot of red paint and a brush. Dean took it without question and threw aside the rug and began painting. He had the drawing Castiel had given him and reproduced it quite accurately. When Dean had finished he replaced the rug and Castiel brought them back to the inn.

“It’s all set.” Dean said. “He’s just gotta stand in that spot an we got im.”

They waited till the sun had set and they set out, equipped with the colt, holy water and a few long silver blades provided by Castiel, who claimed they would indeed kill a demon. They paused outside Lady Suzette’s to go over the plan a final time, while Castiel popped in to see if Yellow Eyes was in position.

“Alright,” Sam said. “You three keep the demons busy while Dean and I go for Yellow Eyes. Remember though, we need him alive, but not the others.”

They nodded at his words and Castiel appeared beside them. “He’s there.” Was all he said.

They readied themselves for the assault and Sam hoped more than anything that they would be successful this time. In another moment they were striding for the door in a tight formation. They entered the room quietly as not to draw attention to themselves and the first thing they saw was women. Women in the laps of men, draped over the furniture, laughing and talking as if they cared about the men before them. And what they heard was a woman’s voice singing an old folk song.

“I killed a man in Dallas, and another in Cheyenne. But when I killed the man in Tombstone, I overplayed my hand.” The woman sang in a sultry voice, strange for such a folk song.

They spread out through the place, each of them knowing exactly where to go. Sam and Dean caught sight of Yellow Eyes from across the room and Dean was filled with such a rage as he had never known. Ruby sat beside him laughing wickedly. Dean strode towards Yellow Eyes, Sam right behind him as the woman continued to sing.

“They’re gonna hang me in the mornin’ a’fore this night is done. They’re gonna hang me in the mornin’ and I’ll never see the sun. I want to warn you fellers and I tell you one by one, what makes a gallows rope to swing, a woman and a gun.”

When the singing stopped the room grew quiet and Dean’s heavy footfalls echoed through the room. Yellow Eyes looked around then and catching sight of Dean a feral smile stretched horribly across his face.

“I’ll be damned.” He said getting to his feet. “You are a persistent bunch, you Winchesters. I’ll give ya that.”

“This ends here.” Dean said loudly, voice booming through the small room. At his words, the other occupants sensing trouble quietly began to file out of the room until all that remained were demons and hunters.

“Is that what you think?” asked Yellow Eyes, his smile melting into a vicious sneer.

“It’s what I know.” Dean said.

Yellow Eyes turned to Ruby and spoke. “Kill the others, these two are mine.” She nodded and after that everything became a blur of sound and movement, but Dean never took his eyes off the demon.

“I remember killin; your Ma,” Yellow Eyes said relishing the rage in their eyes. “She fought and she screamed. You know she weren’t dead yet, burnin’ on that ceiling still alive. I wish I coulda seent the look on her face.”

“You’re gonna die for what you done to her and Pa.” Dean spat out, gripping the barrel of the colt, wishing he could use it.

“Speak o’ the Devil you’re about to meet the same end your daddy did, boy.” Yellow Eyes told them taking a step forward.

“You see that’s where you’re wrong.” Sam said, pressing his shoulder against Dean’s to calm him. “Cause we got somethin’ our Pa never did.”

“And what would that be?” asked Yellow Eyes taking another step forward, so close now just one more step.

“You wanna tell im or should I?” Sam asked Dean.

“Allow me.” Dean replied as Yellow Eyes took another step, over the spot on the rug Dean had carefully chosen earlier. “What we got is you.”

Yellow Eyes tried to take another step forward, but was met with an invisible wall of resistance. Dean turned from the demon for the first time since he’d caught sight of him. “Ever’body alright?” he called behind him.

“We’re alright.” Bobby called back.

Dean breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Sam. They shared a look filled with unspoken emotion. They had him, after 23 years, they finally had him.


	6. The Blood Of My Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winchesters are finally in possession of the Yellow Eyed demon and the vengeance they've been seeking most of their lives, but they learn there is much more at stake than revenge.

Chapter Six:  
The Blood Of My Father  
“Don’t listen to the enticing words of the men who own droves and herds. For if you do, you’ll rue the day that you left your homes for the lone prairie.”

* * *

 

 

Once Yellow Eyes was in their possession then followed the arduous task of transporting him to a safe place for interrogation. Ellen offered up the Roadhouse and it was agreed to take the demon there. Uneasy about traveling with him in the open, they agreed that a carriage would be the most logical choice. It was Castiel who provided the small carriage and two sturdy horses. The question of where he had acquired them went unasked and Castiel offered up no further explanations. Castiel also provided them with a set of iron wrist and ankle shackles, engraved with a myriad of strange and occultist symbols, they would render Yellow Eyes powerless during transportation and beyond.

They packed the demon into the carriage which sported more symbols and another Devil’s trap, they were taking no chances this time, and set out. Bobby, more experienced than any of the others drove the carriage and the rest followed on horseback. They rode steadily, stopping as infrequently as they dared, only often enough to keep from overworking the horses. Yellow Eyes taunted them incessantly and when either of the Winchesters were close by he was particularly vocal. He grew more furious as they progressed and they all ignored him as best they could.

Dean road at the far back, grateful for the journey if only to wrap his head around what had happened the last few days. In all his life of hunting the demon, he had never really imagined catching him. He had just blindly hunted it, as his father had, as he had been taught. Now that they had him, he wasn’t really sure how he should feel. He supposed relief, satisfaction, but he felt none of these things. All that resided in his heart was a strange emptiness and an unnameable dread.

As they neared Miner’s Pike Dean’s annoyance had reached alarming levels. He rode beside the carriage and Yellow Eyes seeing him through the window called out to him.

“You’ll regret this one day.” He said.

“One day’s about all you got left.” Dean replied vehemently. Yellow Eyes seeing the promise in Dean’s eyes was silent the rest of the journey.

It was still far too long a journey for any of their comfort and when they finally arrived back in Miner’s Pike, it was none too soon. They moved the blindfolded and oddly silent demon into the basement of the Roadhouse which had been protected as thoroughly as the carriage had been. They shackled him to a chair and left him there, retreating upstairs to discuss their next move.

“So,” began Sam. “What now?”

“We must question him.” Castiel replied. “We must find out what Lucifer has planned.”

“Who’s doin’ the interogatin’?” asked Bobby uneasily.

“I will.” Castiel said.

“Hold on a damn minute.” Dean interjected angrily. “We been huntin’ this demon all our lives, there aint no way I’m lettin’ im out my sight now we finally caught im.”

Castiel sighed. “If that is you’re feeling then perhaps the two of you should be accompany me. Your presence may even get him talking.”

Dean gave a curt nod and Sam stepped forward. “When are we doin’ this?” he asked.

“We have little time, we do it now.” Replied Castiel.

A moment later they were following Castiel into the basement, leaving Ellen, Jo and Bobby behind looking worried. They arranged themselves before Yellow Eyes and without a word Sam leaned forward and pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He swiveled his head to look at each of them in turn and the action was unsettlingly reptilian. Dean rested a hand on the handle of the colt which hung at his hip. The demon’s eyes rested on it a moment before he spoke.

“Looks like you boys finally got me.” He said. “How does it feel?”

Castiel cut him off. “I am Castiel, I am an angel of the Lord.” He said a pair of shadowy wings briefly illuminated on the wall behind him. “You will tell what you know of Lucifer and his plans.”

The demon laughed harshly. “Or what?”

“You will suffer as no creature ever has.” Replied Castiel icily.

Yellow Eyes grinned, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “Do your worst.” He said.

Sam and Dean stood by and watched what followed, somber and reticent. They felt a savage pleasure at the screams which issued from the yellow eyed demon’s throat, each wishing they were the ones causing them. The angel sliced into the demon, the skin sizzling where the angelic blade made contact with the unholy flesh. He poured salt and holy water down the demon’s throat and sealed the mouth until the lips were flecked with blood and foam. It went on for hours, Castiel’s skill with the silver blade he wielded was extensive and he seemed intent on continuing his work as long as he needed to.

Sam’s enjoyment of the scene before him quickly melted into distaste. He willed himself not to look away, knowing that his father would want him to see and to remember every second of pain felt by the monster that had taken their lives from them. The endless screams echoed in his and after a while an unpleasant feeling began in his stomach, bile rising in his throat sickeningly. The hours dragged on and he didn’t know how much more he could stand, though he knew to leave would be a disappointment, but to whom he wasn’t entirely sure. Just as he reached his limit, as he was about to turn away the expletives and threats that had been streaming from the demon’s mouth in equal measure to his screams, stopped suddenly. In their place fell a heavy silence, filled only with ragged breathing.

After several minutes the demon spoke, in a rasping voice. “Alright.” He said in a tone of utter defeat. “Alright.”

“Will you tell me what I need to know?” asked Castiel.

“Yes.” Replied Yellow Eyes. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“What is Lucifer’s plan?”

Yellow Eyes looked directly at Sam then. “Him.” Was all he said.

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean asked, while Sam stood tense and silent.

“To walk the earth an angel must have a human vessel, much like a demon. But angels are a little more particular than demons.” Yellow Eyes said.

“What’s he talkin’ bout?” Dean asked turning to Castiel.

“Angels require something more specific than demons for our vessels. We cannot inhabit just anyone, it is very particular who we are compatible with.” Castiel replied uneasily.

“What are you gettin’ at?”

“Lucifer’s gonna wear your brother to the county fair.” Yellow Eyes chimed in, a look of savage glee on his face.

The air seemed to vacate Sam’s lungs and he turned blindly and ran, taking the stairs two at a time. The truth tore at him and he felt like he was being ripped to pieces by it. Sam ran from the saloon ignoring the calls of concern that followed him. He ran until his legs gave out and then he collapsed to the ground, trying not to think.

Dean watched his brother go and he let him. He knew Sam, knew he would need time to swallow the truth of what they had learned. He turned to Castiel. “What do we do with him?”

“He is of no more use to us. Deal with him how you will.” Castiel replied and he vanished.

Dean upholstered the colt and looked at it appreciatively before speaking. “There’s a lot o’ things I could say to right now, give a big speech and the like, but I never been a big talker. That was always more Sam’s area.”

“You always did seem a bit dim.” Said Yellow Eyes. “Got that from your Pa I expect.”

Dean took a step toward the demon before continuing, as if he hadn’t heard anything. “All I really got to say to you is, this is for my Ma and for my Pa and I hope you burn in hell you sonofabitch.” And with that Dean raised the colt and pulled the trigger, punching a neat hole through the demon’s forehead. His head snapped back with the blow and then slumped forward, perfectly still.

Dean holstered the colt and sat heavily on the stairs. He felt drained and devoid of any feeling. He wished he could feel happy or relieved, the way his father would have, but the moment he had waited so long for had been stolen from him, by the horrible truth. Remembering how Sam had run off, Dean rose and made to look for him. When he got upstairs Castiel was there and Dean could tell from the looks on their faces that they knew. Bobby took a tentative step forward.

“The demon?” he asked.

“Dead.” Replied tonelessly. “Where’s Sam?”

“Dunno, he just run off like he had the Devil on his tail.” Bobby said. “I guess that aint too far off.”

Dean didn’t reply and walked out of the saloon to find his brother. It didn’t take him too long to locate him, he knew Sam too well. He found him sitting amongst the sage brush at the edge of town, unseen by anyone. Dean sat beside him without a word and waited for Sam to talk to him. It was a long time before Sam said anything and when he did there was a vulnerable sound to his voice that Dean hadn’t heard since he was a child.

“Is he…?” asked Sam not needing to finish the question.

“Yeah,” replied Dean. “Sorry you weren’t there, but it had to be done.”

“That’s alright, didn’t really wanta be there anyway.” Sam said. “I was just hopin’ this would all end once he was dead.”

“I know.” Dean said. “So did I.”

“About what he said,” Sam began but Dean cut him off.

“You aint gotta worry bout that, ya hear?”

“I guess I shoulda seent that one comin’ a mile off.” Sam said bitterly.

“What the hell you mean by that?” asked Dean forcefully.

“It aint no secret that I never fit in with normal folks.” Sam said.

“Hell neither have I Sammy. It’s part o’ the job.”

“It’s more’n that Dean.” Sam replied, looking around as if searching for the right words. He shook his head and continued. “It’s like all my life I never felt clean, like I was tainted by somethin’. I always thought that savin’ folks would help, would make me better, but it never did. There’s somethin’ wrong with me.”

Dean gripped Sam’s jaw and turned his head so that he looked Dean in the eye. “Listen to me.” He said roughly. “There aint nothin’ wrong with you. Do you hear me? Just cause you’re his vessel don’t mean you’re bad, Sammy.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know you. An there aint an ounce o’ bad in ya, trust me. An I swear on Ma’s life, I will never let him put a hand on you. Please believe me.”

Sam’s eyes filled with tears and Dean pulled him close, gently stroking his hair and speaking to him in a low murmuring voice. Cradled in Dean’s arms, the horror that had so quickly engulfed him, dissipated. Dean was the only person Sam could ever believe such words from and at that moment he thanked God for his brother. He held onto Dean after the monsters had retreated back into the recesses of his mind. In the circle of his brother’s arms was the only place Sam ever felt truly safe and he was reluctant to let that feeling go. It was a long while before they parted and rose silently to head back to the Roadhouse. Their shoulders brushed together as they walked, both needing the comfort and solidity of one another.

They entered the saloon to find the others sitting quietly, waiting for their return. Dean sat Sam down at the bar and motioned for Ellen to bring him a drink. It was a long while before anyone spoke and it was Bobby who finally mustered up the courage to do so.

“So,” he began hesitantly. “How ya doin’ son?”

Sam turned to him and tried to smile. “I’m alright.” He said.

“This doesn’t change anything, you know that don’t ya?” Jo said. “We’re still with ya, till the end o’ the line.”

“Damn right we are.” Ellen added.

This time Sam’s smile looked less forced and Dean breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the Harvelles. “Thank ya.” Sam said. “That means a lot.”

“We got to figure out what we’re doin’ next.” Dean said changing the subject. “Where’d that angel get to anyway?”

“I dunno,” Bobby said. “He took off after he told us what Yellow Eyes said. Who knows where he went, or when he’ll be back.”

“Well if we’re gonna be waitin’ we might as well do it right.” Ellen said pulling a fresh bottle of rye and several glasses from beneath the counter and bringing it to one of the booths.

They followed her and filed into the cracked leather seats, Ellen and Jo on one side, Sam and Dean on the other and Bobby in a chair at the end. Ellen cracked open the bottle and poured them each a generous drink. They drank in silence and waited for the angel to return, each preparing themselves for the long night ahead of them. The level in the bottle steadily decreased and near dawn the bottle was empty and their vigil was at an end.

Castiel appeared in the room accompanied by the familiar flutter of wings, but he was not alone. Another man stood with him, his hair was the color of straw and he had eyes of a peculiar amber. He was dressed lavishly in a suede suit of deep purple, his shoes were of an expensive, highly polished leather and the man, though small of stature carried himself with an air of importance. Castiel turned to them and appeared to be about to speak when the other man cut him off.

“The name’s Gabriel,” he said pompously looking over the group seated at the booth. “As in the archangel. No need to ask who any of you are.”

“I have been searching for Gabriel for quite some time now and I am lucky to have found him. I believe he can help us in our mission.” Castiel said by way of explanation.

“Mission.” Gabriel scoffed. “You wanna put your brother in pine box, don’t make it sound so godly.”

“I believe that God desires Lucifer to be stopped, he would not want his flock destroyed by the Devil’s wrath.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants the humans saved, that’s why he’s saving them, oh wait!” Gabriel said sarcastically.

“Why don’t ya just tell us what you got, alright?” Dean said losing his patience.

“Easy there big fella, I’ll get to it.” Gabriel said taking a seat at one of the nearby tables.

“There is a way that Lucifer may be destroyed forever, but it will require an unimaginable sacrifice. I ask that you consider this option carefully, as it may be our only hope.” Castiel said, his tone grim.

Five pairs of eyes fell on Gabriel, waiting for an explanation. Satisfied with his audience, Gabriel began to speak. “There is an object, an amulet of sorts older than the earth itself. This amulet was created by God, so that if humanity ever found the need, they could defend themselves against an angel. Now keep in mind this was before Lucifer fell, so the concept of a dangerous angel was a new one, but he wanted to put humanity on equal footing with angels, if there ever came a need. This amulet was not made to kill an angel, but to destroy it utterly and completely.” Gabriel paused for a moment, enjoying the impact he was having.

“How do we do it?” Bobby asked.

“The angel’s vessel must take control of the body and recite a prayer over the amulet and poof, no more angel.” Gabriel said.

“And what about the vessel?” Dean asked, fear flooding through him.

“Uh, well you see after the spell is complete, both angel and vessel are consumed in holy flame, but-“

“What?” Dean almost shouted.

“I wasn’t finished, it’s not as cut and dry as that. There are stories, of how the righteous one will rise from the ashes, reborn. Which seems about right, the name phoenix is derived from the name of the amulet in Enochian.”

“So you’re saying you don’t know if the vessel will die or not?” asked Sam speaking up at last, his voice dull.

“That’s about it.” Gabriel said.

“I told you there would be a sacrifice. I am sorry Sam, but I do not see another way.” Said Castiel, and for the first time emotion could be detected in his voice and it sounded like regret.

Dean sat silently, anxiously, waiting for Sam’s reaction. “I’d have to let him in then?”

“Yes.” Replied Castiel.

Sam laughed suddenly, a sound completely devoid of mirth. He nodded as if to himself and Dean wished more than anything that he could be Sam’s big brother right now, his protector. He wished he could tell the angels to go to hell, that they couldn’t have his Sam, and he knew that Sam wished he could too. But deep down they both knew that this decision had to be Sam’s and Sam’s alone. It was a few seconds before he replied.

“Alright.” Sam said, feeling as though he were tying a noose about his own neck. He was filled with a resolve he had never known. “I’ll do it.”

Beside him, Dean’s heart was breaking, but he said nothing. There was nothing to say.


	7. For Tomorrow We die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One last night of peace before they go after the amulet.

Chapter Seven:  
For Tomorrow We Die  
“O bury me not, but his voice failed there, but we paid no heed to the dying prayer. In a narrow grave, just six by three we buried him on the lone prairie.”

* * *

 

 

Castiel left with Gabriel shortly after the news was told and so began the waiting again, but this time was different. This time they felt more acutely the true horror of their situation and none more than Sam. After he had agreed to the plan, agreed to die he had seemed to deflate under the weight of his newfound responsibility. He had risen from the table following the angel’s departure and gone upstairs and locked himself in one of the spare rooms. He did not run from, or weep as he had before, he just sit on the edge of the bed, quiet and thoughtful.

Dean let him be for the time, he knew that Sam needed a little while to accept what was happening, hell they all did. The following afternoon Dean knocked lightly on the door to Sam’s room, telling himself he was only checking on him. It was a few seconds before he heard a response through the door.

“Come in.” Sam said quietly.

Dean entered the room and found Sam sitting in the exact spot Dean had left him in the night before. He walked over and sat beside Sam, neither of them saying anything for a long time. It was Dean who spoke first, unable to bear his brother’s silence any longer.

“Sam,” he began.

“You don’t have to do this.” Said Sam suddenly.

“Do what?” asked Dean, confused.

“Gimme a big speech ta make me feel better, I’m fine Dean. You aint gotta worry bout me no more.”

“I can’t ever stop worryin’ bout you, when are ya gonna figure that out.” Dean said giving Sam a nudge with his elbow. “It aint for sure ya know, what’ll happen.”

“I know, I just.” Sam paused as if searching for the right words. “We were gonna have this life together ya know, like I always wanted an I just don’t wanta lose that. I don’t wanta leave you.”

“You aint goin’ anywhere, you hear me?” Dean said. “You’re comin’ back to me, like you always done. Promise me.”

Sam looked into Dean’s eyes and knew of what he spoke. “I promise.” He said and hoped that he wouldn’t break this promise as he had done before, so many years ago. He saw the hurt in Dean’s eyes, the hurt of being abandoned, a look he knew he had been the cause of, and a look he had never wanted to see again. They sat quietly together, both lost in remembering.

It was six years ago, when Sam was sixteen and Dean twenty, when Sam had broken the only promise he had made to his brother. The Georgian Summer had settled in gently around them, warm and fresh. The boys had been left at an old abandoned farm by their father, who had taken off on a hunt. Sam had not wanted to join him and Dean had chosen to stay with Sam. The farm was not in such disrepair that they lived in squalor. It had been bought by the bank recently and most of the furniture had even been left behind. It was nice, the two of them living together in their own little farmhouse. They awoke early every morning and walked through the brush, gazing at the nearby mountains, taking what peace they could.

It was in the second week of their stay, in the evening when they sat out on the crooked porch and watched the sun set. Sam had loved every moment he had spent in that place, finally getting a taste of the life he had always yearned for. An ache for it had begun beneath his ribs, the ache of what he would never know. Sam had made a decision in the back of his mind, it was difficult and he wished he didn’t need to, but he had to go. He didn’t know what he would do, all he knew was that he couldn’t do it anymore, the running, and the killing. All he wanted was for Dean to go with him, for them to have a life together, a real life. Sam looked to Dean sitting peacefully on the broken wooden stairs of the porch.

“Dean?” he asked tentatively.

“Yeah?” Dean asked looking at him fondly.

“Do you ever wish it could be like this all the time?”

“What do ya mean?” sked Dean, brow furrowed.

“I mean living like this, together.”

“Not huntin’ you mean?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sam said.

“We’re hunters Sam, this is what we do. Sides normal life is borin’” Dean replied with a grin.

“It’s peaceful though.” Sam said hoping his brother could see how much this meant to him.

“Plateful’s good for a while, but it gets old after a while Sammy.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed halfheartedly. “I just wish I could run away sometimes, is all.”

Dean looked at him seriously then and Sam avoided his gaze. “Hey, look at me.” Dean said and Sam complied. “You aint gonna run out on me Sammy, are ya?”

“No Dean, I didn’t mean it like that.” Sam amended.

“Promise me.” Dean said unconvinced. “Promise me you won’t leave.”

Sam was silent, indecision roiling through him.

“Sammy, please.” Dean said, and Sam could see the naked fear in his eyes, mixed with hurt. “You know I can’t do this without you.”

“I know Dean.” Sam assured him. “I’m not gonna leave I promise. I was just foolin’”

Dean nodded, relief replacing the caution in his features. The lie left a bitter taste on his tongue and Sam hated himself for the trust he saw in Dean’s eyes. The discussion was forgotten by Dean and when they retired to bed that night he slept with the soundness of ignorance. Sam left that night, slipped from the bed they had shared. With the decision to go made, he couldn’t bear to stay any longer. He knew that if he did, his resolve would weaken and he would never go. And so he selfishly stole away in the night, an utterly unselfish need burning in his heart.

He tried not to think of what he had done to Dean not even after they had reunited he could not bear the thought. The anguish his broken promise had wrought Dean would never fully admit and Sam knew the wound would never fully heal. Sam’s foray into normal life was cut short when their father had disappeared to kill the yellow eyed demon. Dean had found him, never having truly lost him, and asked for his help in finding their father. They had of course been too late and Sam had not found the strength in himself to leave again. They had fallen back into the same routine, this time on their own, and all hope of finding peace left Sam.



In the small room in the Roadhouse, the air heavy with memory the brothers sat. Dean gave Sam a gentle nudge. “C’mon,” he said trying to smile. “Ellen and Jo and Bobby are plannin’ a little party. You don’t wanta miss it.”

“A party?” asked Sam dumbfounded.

“Yeah, well we’ll be goin’ after this amulet in a bit. Dangerous work ya know, they figured have one last night o’ good times afore…” Dean trailed off.

“Cause we could all be dead tomorra?”

“I guess so.” Dean admitted. “C’mon Sammy, do it for me alright. It’d do ya some good to forget for a while.”

“Alright.” Sam agreed, with a smile. “I’ll come to your damn party.”

Dean grinned. “That’s more like it. Let’s go.”

They arrived downstairs to find that a radio had been dug out of some unknown place and was aching out a little tune. The place looked great, the tables had been pushed aside to clear space in the center of the room and a few of them were covered in white cotton table cloths and bore bouquets of wild flowers. The finest spirits the Roadhouse possessed were lined in a merry little row on the bar, the bottles glinting in the late afternoon sun that shone through the dusty windows. Sam smiled genuinely for the first time in days when he saw it.

Jo grinned when she saw them walk in. “What do ya think?” she asked happily. “Do we clean up good, or what?”

“You’re damn right it does.” Replied Dean jovially. “An look who I found to join us.”

Bobby approached Sam and hugged him unexpectedly. He stepped back and gave a shy little cough, and looked down with embarrassment. “Glad ya made it down, Sam.” He said.

Jo hugged him next, tightly and earnestly, then Ellen, the gentle embrace of a mother. It was then that Sam realized just who this “Party” was for. His heart swelled with love for the people before him, never before had he known so completely what it was like to have a family. His only regret was that he may not have long to enjoy it. He vowed then to take every ounce of joy he could find and hold onto it as long as he could. He looked at Dean grinning beside him and knew at once whose idea this had all been. He felt his eyes stinging with unexpected tears.

“This is wonderful.” Was all he managed and from the looks on their faces, he knew it was enough.

The five of them spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening together. They drank and talked and were grateful for the company. They had grown fond of one another and they seemed to fit together perfectly. They had become a family of sorts and for Sam, his mother having died when he was just six months old, this was the closest thing to a real family he had ever know. It meant more to him than he could say that they would go through the trouble of setting up such a get together for him.

They wanted to make him feel better, and he was touched. The only person in his life who had ever given a damn about the way he felt was Dean. Periodically Sam would catch Bobby, Jo looking at him uncertainly. He knew they were concerned, but Sam’s only concern that night was Dean. When Dean looked at him it was with fear, as if he thought Sam were going to vanish on the spot. Sam tried to reassure him, with a smile, or a touch, but the look stayed with him.

Castiel arrived to the festivities after sundown to give them updates that no one paid any attention to. After much coercion, they convinced him to stay and Ellen and Jo set about the impossible task of getting an angel drunk. Needless to say there were many more trips to the liquor cabinet. The party dissolved into an uproarious drunken disaster, a wonderful disaster albeit. The small room was filled with noise, music from the radio, loud cackling, tables were pounded for emphasis, jokes were started only to have the teller drunkenly forget the punchline. It was a grand time for all save Dean.

The older Winchester had suggested the party for Sam, to let him know that they cared and that he wasn’t alone. And it had worked, Sam was laughing and drinking and Dean saw genuine happiness on his face. He looked on the festivities and tried to let go of the leaden weight that had settled around his heart, if only for a night, but for all his strength he could not lessen its grip on him. And so he had pretended to smile and to laugh and he had looked at Sam, when he didn’t know Dean was looking. He looked and tried to convince himself that everything would be alright, that his soul would not be taken from him. He drank heavily and believed none of the things he told himself. When no one was looking Dean snuck out of the saloon and walked aimlessly into the night.

A little while later Sam looked up from where he was sitting and searched the room for his brother. The seat Dean had so recently occupied was empty and a half empty drink sit at the table. Sam rose immediately and left the saloon to find him. Jo saw Sam leave and suggested to Bobby that they go after him, but Bobby understood and he let him go. Sam headed for the only pace he could think that Dean would go. He retraced his steps to the edge of town, and the thicket of sweet smelling sage brush. He found Dean sitting there as he knew he would, knees drawn to his chest, eyes downcast. He looked so lost and afraid in that moment that Sam could not help but disturb him. He sat beside his brother as Dean had to done for him just yesterday.

“You okay Dean?” he asked though he already knew the answer.

 

Dean sighed. “I’m alright.” He replied.

“I missed ya back there.” Sam said gently.

“You seemed kinda busy, didn’t think ya’d notice if I slipped out for a while.”

“I always notice.”

Dean chuckled. “We got that in common then I guess.”

“There somethin’ you wanta talk about?” asked Sam changing the subject.

“There aint much to be said.”

“Aint there?”

“Hell I dunno Sam.” Dean said in frustration. “What do ya want me ta say?”

“I want you to talk to me.” Sam said. “Tell me what you’re feelin’ cause I aint got no clue here. I’m in the dark an I don’t like it.”

“I can’t lose you Sam, I just can’t.” Dean said looking at Sam with tears in his eyes. “I don’t think I could live without you.”

“You won’t have to.” Sam replied fiercely.

“You don’t know that.”

“That’s what I’m choosing to believe alright. I gotta hope ya know?”

“Well I was never very good at all that hope and faith stuff.” Dean said dully.

Sam took Dean’s hand and placed it over his heart, holding it there. “For me, please.” He said. “Don’t give up on me yet.”

Dean looked at Sam his green eyes flashing with emotion. “I could never give up on you, Sammy. Never.”

Sam pulled Dean into a soft kiss, knocking their hats off in the process. He couldn’t bear the look in Dean’s eyes, the love and fear all mixed together in equal measure. Dean opened his mouth and Sam deepened the kiss, tongue gently exploring his brother’s mouth. It wasn’t often they could do this, always hiding from everyone, but tonight Sam didn’t care who saw what. He needed Dean to hope and to trust and if he didn’t believe his words, then maybe he could be convinced another way. Sam reached for Dean’s vest and slipped it off and when Sam began to unbutton his shirt a hand stopped him.

“It’s alright.” Sam murmured against Dean’s lips. “I promise.”

Sam laid him down in the dust and Dean allowed himself to be undressed gently and methodically. Sam kissed every inch of his brother he could reach, lips tenderly sliding along flesh. Dean’s cock stirred with Sam’s attention and he pulled Sam back to him, kissing him with more urgency than before. He began working at Sam’s clothes, quickly and without finesse. He flipped them over so that Dean sat astride his brother. He kissed down Sam’s chest, running his tongue along the hard muscled planes. Sam shivered despite the warmth of the night and groaned under his brother’s tongue.

Sam pulled Dean in for another bruising kiss and pressed their bodies together. Both men gasped at the feel of skin on skin, their hard cocks sliding together, trapped between their bodies. Dean looked deep into Sam’s eyes as he rocked his hips forward, sending a bolt of pleasure through him. Sam groaned loudly and bucked his hips up, desperate for more. Dean thrust again, their cocks sliding together, slicked with precum, the delicious friction making them both gasp. Dean began thrusting harder, and Sam lifted his hips to meet him, grinding into him. Sam wrapped his legs around Dean’s waist and kissed him, hot and wet and so good.

Their breaths came in ragged little gasps and Sam knew he wasn’t going to last. Dean buried a hand in Sam’s hair. “Sammy.” He groaned into his brother’s neck.

Sam moaned at the way Dean said his name. Dean lifted his head to look Sam in the eye. Dean’s thrusts became quicker, more erratic and when he spoke his voice was hoarse. “Promise me.” He said and Sam had no trouble figuring out what he meant.

Sam held onto Dean as tightly as he could. “I promise Dean.” He said in a gasping voice. “I promise.”

“God, I love you so much.” Dean said with a moan. “I love you.”

Dean’s proclamation of love sent a wave of pleasure though Sam that was almost unbearable in its intensity. He clutched Dean as they rutted together in the dirt like animals, their skin streaked with dust and sweat. Dean tightened his grip in Sam’s hair and thrust, sending them both over the edge. They came together, moaning and writhing amongst the sage brush. Dean collapsed on top of Sam, exhausted. They lay there together, breathing heavily for a long while. When the sweat had begun to cool on their bodies and a slight chill set in they finally moved.

They dressed quietly and stood, still a little weak in the knee. Sam caught his brother’s gaze and saw that the fear in his eyes had diminished somewhat and his heart rejoiced a little at the sight. They walked back to the saloon to find that all but Bobby had retired in their absence. He took in their disheveled appearances, but said nothing. That night in the bed they shared, Sam tucked himself into the crook of his brother’s neck. Sam placed a kiss to Dean’s throat and murmured into the warm skin there.

“I love you.” He said as if in answer to Dean’s earlier words. “More than my own soul.”

Dean said nothing, but held Sam tighter, the fear still an iron weight in his heart.


	8. Let The Dead Bury Their Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang goes after the amulet, but the danger is greater than they realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this ones a day late, I was out of town yesterday. Anyway, here's chapter 8.

Chapter Eight:  
Let The Dead Bury Their Dead  
“We buried him there on the lone prairie where the buzzards fly and the wind blows free. Where the rattlesnakes rattle and the tumbleweeds blow across his grave on the lone prairie.”

* * *

 

 

The morning following the party each of the five inhabitants of the house made their way downstairs slowly and a bit tenderly. Sam and Dean left their room together and said nothing when they saw Bobby quietly exiting Ellen’s room. They made their way down into the saloon to find that Ellen and Jo were already awake and that breakfast had been cooked. Sam and Dean ate heartily, but bobby having imbibed a bit too vigorously the night before, had only coffee. And so the abominable waiting continued. Castiel, who had vanished slightly more disheveled than had been before, promised to return with more news as soon as he could.

Not knowing how long of a wait it would be, Sam and Dean decided to go out riding after breakfast. They didn’t enjoy sitting idly for too long, but mostly they wanted the time together. They rode out to the edge of town and kept going, out into the dusty wasteland in between the little pockets of civilization. They had been riding in silence when Dean suddenly spurred his horse forward.

“Race ya to that rock.” Dean shouted as he galloped off, pointing at a tall rock in the distance that looked like a crooked thumb protruding from the earth.

Sam spurred his horse into a gallop and tried in vain to catch up to his brother’s significant lead. He could hear Dean laughing up ahead of him and he leaned low over his horse’s neck, determined not to let his brother beat him. The rock loomed before them and Sam was gaining steadily on Dean. They were neck and neck when they reached the rock and Dean slowed his horse to a trot ad turned to grin at Sam triumphantly. Sam slowed beside him and threw him a dirty look.

“Aw, don’t be a sore loser Sammy.” He said gloatingly.

“That weren’t fair Dean, you got a head start.” Sam replied grumpily.

“I’m older, I get head starts.”

“I woulda caught ya if we’d o’ had a longer race.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that little brother.” Dean said, eyes shining with amusement.

“Go on an gloat ya jerk. I’ll get ya next time.”

“I bet ya will.” Dean said stopping his horse close beside Sam’s. He leaned over and caught Sam’s lips in a sudden kiss, he pulled away just as suddenly with a coy smile on his lips. The animals having taken advantage of the close proximity had begun to nuzzle one another affectionately.

Sam looked at them and laughed. “Lookit even the horses is necking.” He said.

Dean laughed merrily and leaning forward, he took Sam’s hand where it lay on his pommel. He looked at Sam tenderly. “Ever’thin’s gonna be alright.” He said as if he had just come to the conclusion.

“I know it will.” Replied Sam interlacing his fingers with Dean’s. “I know.”

They rode back to the Roadhouse at a more leisurely pace, feeling more content than they had in a long while. There was a gentle peace upon them that was rare for two such men. Unbeknownst to them, their day of perfect peace was soon to shatter about them like so many shards of glass. When they reached the saloon they found Castiel waiting for them, looking grim. His gaze fell heavily upon them before he spoke.

“Gabriel has helped me to locate the amulet.” Castiel said. “But it is going to be more difficult to acquire than I had anticipated. It is as I have feared”

“What do ya mean?” asked Sam.

“Lucifer found it before we could. It is in his possession now.”

“Well, where is it?” asked Dean.

“It is being kept in one of his many safe houses. It will be heavily guarded and nearly impregnable.”

“As long as it’s only nearly, then we gotta chance.” Replied Dean hopefully. “Don’t we?”

“A slim chance as far as I can tell.” Bobby said gruffly from where he stood at the bar.

“We’ll go it alone.” Sam said decisively. “You three have done enough, there’s no need for ya’ll to be risking your lives again.”

“You’re outta your damn mind if you think we’re lettin’ you two go by yourselves.” Ellen said fiercely.

“Yeah, what she said.” Jo chimed in from her mother’s elbow.

Sam nodded without another word, affection flooding through him.

“Alright,” Dean said. “Where are we goin’?”

“New Mexico.” Said Castiel bluntly.

“That’s a helluva long ride.” Bobby said.

“It will not be necessary for you to make the journey on horseback.” Castiel said. “I can take you there myself, it will be quicker and much easier that way.”

“When do we leave?” Sam asked.

“As so as you all are ready, tonight if possible.”

“We aint ever gonna be more ready than we is right now.” Replied Bobby.

“Tonight it is.” Added Dean grimly.

They spent the afternoon what little gear they would be bringing and waiting for nightfall. When the sun had sunk below the horizon, Castiel came to them.

“It’s time.” He said somberly.

They nodded and gathered about him, armed to the teeth with guns and angel blades, Dean carrying the colt. With a snap of his fingers they were transported to what appeared to be a dry, barren desert. They were at the crest of a small, sloping hill. Looking down they could see a few shacks that looked to have been erected quickly and inefficiently. The surrounding desert was as good a deterrent as any and also appeared to be empty of any living soul save themselves. They knelt in the sand, overlooking the shanty town and Castiel leaned in and spoke to them in a whisper.

“The amulet is being kept in that building there.” He said pointing down at the largest of the three shacks. “It will be guarded by Lucifer’s forces, how many I cannot tell.”

“Let’s get this over with then, shall we?” prompted Bobby uneasily.

Castiel led them down the embankment and into the empty semblance of a street. They walked for several feet and nothing happened, they heard no sound other than their own footsteps. Dean was unpleasantly reminded of how empty Devil’s Ridge had appeared to be. He was about to lean over and remind the others to be on their guard when he heard it. A deep, guttural growling. They all turned toward the sound to see a woman standing at the foot of the hill they had just descended. She had long brown hair, which she wore loose and curled. She wore black trousers and a coat of fine black leather. She was grinning mirthlessly at them.

“Howdy.” She said. “Name’s Meg and these are my friends.”

The growling continued and Castiel stepped forward. “Hellhounds.” He said viciously. “All of you, get out of here. You can’t see them, you will be no use in this fight.”

“But Castiel,” Sam began, but it was too late.

There was a thundering sound as the hounds charged them. They fired blindly at the creatures, but had no way of knowing if any of their shots made contact. They ran backwards, trying to hold off the dogs long enough to regroup. Dean looked to his friends to see that they fared no better than he did. He saw Jo lifted the shotgun to fire and Dean saw what was going to happen. He shouted her name and ran towards her, but he wasn’t quick enough. Everything seemed to slow down. Her boot caught on a rock embedded in the sand and she went down. They were on her in seconds, large gashes appeared on her abdomen as if she were being ripped apart from the inside out. She screamed in pain and when Dean got to her she was bleeding heavily.

He gathered her up in his arms and ran blindly for the nearest building. He didn’t care what he found on the other side, all he knew was that he had to help her. The others seeing what had happened followed them. Castiel held the hounds off long enough for them to get inside and barricade the door with what little furniture they found. Dean set Jo gently down and pulled off the handkerchief he wore around his neck, he pressed it to the wound and tried to stop the bleeding. Ellen rushed to her daughter the moment the door closed. She knelt beside her, tears in her eyes and looked at the blood gushing from gash on Jo’s abdomen.

“Jo, baby.” Ellen whispered the anguish plain in her voice.

“What are we gonna do?” asked Bobby. “We can’t get outta here wit those things out there.”

“The hell with getting’ outta here.” Dean said. “Jo’s hurt bad.”

“Can you heal her?” Sam asked looking to the angel.

“There’s no point.” Jo said weakly from where she lay in her mother’s arms. “They’ll kill all of us if we don’t stop em.”

“Joanna Beth, what are ya thinkin’” Ellen asked her daughter, terrified.

“We got dynamite in them bags.” Jo said. “That’ll stop em for sure.”

“What are ya talkin’ bout?” Ellen asked refusing to believe what her daughter suggested.

“Someone has to stay behind to light the fuse.” Jo said. “I’m already dyin’, no need to take anyone else with me.”

“No.” Ellen shouted. “You aint stayin’ here.”

“I’ll stay.” Dean offered. “I can light the fuse.”

Jo shook her head weakly. “You can’t.” she said. “You gotta stop im, there’s no one else who can. You an Sam an Bobby were chosen for this. You don’t need me.”

“Yes we do.” Dean said desperately. “We need you.”

“We aint got much time.” She said. “You gotta to go.”

Ellen who had stayed silent through the exchange spoke up. “I’m stayin’ with ya.” She said determination like steel glinting in her eyes.

“No Ma,” Jo said. “You aint gotta stay.”

“You’re my baby girl,” Ellen said fiercely. “You’re damn right I’m stayin’”

Ellen turned to Bobby. “Hand me that bag will ya?” she asked.

Bobby looked as if he wanted to argue with her, wanted to say something, but with a nod he brought the bag to her. Ellen began laying the sticks of dynamite around the room and Sam and Dean moved to help her. Within minutes the dynamite was placed and Ellen sat beside her daughter again. She pulled Jo into her arms and looked to the others.

“Ya’ll go out the back, when they get in here we’ll have a surprise waitin’ for em.”

Bobby reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a match. He handed it to Ellen and he let his fingertip brush against hers. Lingering for a moment before he pulled away. They shared a look of understanding, then Bobby turned away unable to hold her gaze. They readied themselves to leave and Dean looked down at the two women.

 

“Thank you.” He said, in lieu of a goodbye. Dean had always hated goodbyes.

Jo smiled at him and nodded. Sam stood at Dean’s elbow, silent. Goodbyes were no easier for him. The four men stood by the back door of the shack, waiting for the right moment. They heard the hellhounds throwing themselves at the door, and knew it wouldn’t last much longer. Just before they left Ellen called to them.

“And boys,” she said, voice filled with resolve. “Kick it in the ass, will ya?”

They nodded their assent and kicked the back door open. They burst through the door and began running, all of them waiting. They were halfway to the larger shack when they heard it, the deafening explosion. They kept running, not one of them looking back. They reached the larger shack and Castiel lifted a hand and the door blew inward. Two demons stood poised and ready to fight, but Castiel was too quick. He descended on them like a crashing wave of heavenly retribution. He planted a hand on both of their foreheads, driving them to the ground. Their eyes began to cook, smoking from within. A moment later Castiel stood, the demons now no more than burnt out husks. He turned to Sam and Dean.

“The amulet will be in that safe.” He said pointing to a black steel safe bearing the epithet, Diebold Safe & Lock Co. in gold lettering. “Can you crack it?”

“Sure I can.” Dean said. “It’ll take a minute or two though.”

“We’ll give you time, just do it.” Castiel said and he and Bobby waited by the door for whatever trouble should come through it.

Dean knelt beside the safe and placed his ear to the cold metal. He rested his hand on the dial slowly bringing it to rest on the number 32, listening with a keen ear for the last tiny, but tell-tale click. After a few tense seconds he had it. As Dean pulled the safe door open Castiel turned to them, expression grim.

“They’re coming.” He said.

“I got it.” Dean said reaching into the safe and pulling out a bronze amulet. It was a horned face, engraved with a swirling pattern, and it hung from a thick black cord.

Dean stuffed the amulet into his pocket and stood. Sam and Dean moved toward the door. “Let’s git outta here.” Sam said and with a snap of his fingers the four of them were back at the Roadhouse.

They stood for several seconds in the middle for the saloon, and no one said a word. It was Castiel who spoke first. “You have the amulet?” he asked Dean.

Dean pulled the thing out of his pocket and looked at it contemptuously for a second before handing it to the angel. “I hope this thing was worth it.” He said.

Castiel studied the amulet closely before returning it to Dean. “Their sacrifice will not have been in vain. We will destroy Lucifer before he can do anymore destruction than he already has.”

“I hope you’re right.” Sam said.

“When do we go for im?” asked Dean.

“I have reason to believe that Lucifer is in Mexico, his precise location will take a little longer to determine. And this time, unfortunately you will have to travel without my assistance. If I bring you to him, he will sense my presence and at once be on his guard.”

“We’ll head out tomorra then, make some headway in the journey and by the time we cross the border maybe we’ll have a destination.” Dean said.

“Alright.” Castiel agreed. “I will be in touch.” He hesitated for a second and seeing the pain in their faces he added. “I am sorry for your loss.” A moment later he was gone.

With troubling business behind them and still more ahead the three men felt the weight of their loss and responsibility like a stone in their hearts. Sam looked to Bobby, concern filling his heart for the older man.

“Bobby,” he began uncertainly. “You alright?”

Bobby nodded. “I’m fine.” He said and his lie hung heavy in the air. He grabbed a bottle of rye from behind the counter and slowly made his way upstairs. They let him to go to grieve in whatever way he saw fit.

Sam and Dean retired to their room and climbed into bed, knowing full well that no sleep would find them that night. They lay together in bed, but didn’t speak. The morning dawned slowly and without warmth and each man lay in the quiet of the house, his grief heavy upon him.


	9. A New Sheriff In Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are separated and Sam is captured by the local law enforcement, but there may be more here than meets the eye.

Chapter Nine:  
A New Sheriff In Town  
“And the cowboys now as they cross the plains have marked the spot where his bones are lain,  
fling a handful of roses on his grave, and pray to the Lord that his soul is saved.”

* * *

 

At dawn the three men rose from their beds not having slept an ounce. They somberly packed what provisions they would require for their journey. It was more than a week's ride to the border and unwilling to linger in that place, they did not acquire any more than what they already had. They said not a word to one another as they prepared to leave. Just before they set out, Dean stopped Bobby at the doorway.

"You aint gotta do this, ya know." Dean said reassuringly.

"Yeah I do." Bobby replied. "For them."

Dean nodded and said no more. They mounted their horses and set out on the only road out of Miner's Pike. The Roadhouse stood abandoned behind them, its windows dark and empty and without cheer. They turned their hearts and minds from the place as their horses put one foot in front of another, putting mile after mile between them and what happiness they had found there. They rode as continuously as their mounts would allow and the weight in Sam's heart grew with every mile they passed. The knowledge of his responsibility haunted him. He feared equally his failure and his success. But what pained him more than anything was the grief his death would cause Dean, for Sam had lost any hope of surviving this journey. He said nothing to Dean of his fears, but they weighed heavily on him.

They passed through town after town and where they normally would have stopped for a meal and a drink, some pleasant conversation, they now rode through without pause. There was a steel edge of determination in them now, each of them refusing to let their friends deaths have been in vain. Sam wore the amulet about his neck and it had the feeling of a mill stone, weighing him down, making each step he took plodding and nigh useless. He drew strength from Dean's presence beside him, and his brother was the only thing that kept him going. He wished only for an ounce of peace, but knew that no such thing was forthcoming.

The days passed sluggishly and without change. Life on the road is the same no matter where you travel, wearying and disheartening. The three men at last came to a small town near the border, Ash Hollow, the locals called it. They had stopped to wait for word from Castiel and to replenish their now depleted provisions. Having eaten nothing but dried beef and beans for nearly a week, they were also eager for a hot meal, if one could be found. They soon realized that the town had no such luxuries as a hotel or saloon. They would have to camp at the edge of town in the tents Bobby had had the presence of mind to bring along.

They set up camp and Sam went into town alone, to the small general store there. He walked through the deserted streets, unease creeping in on him insidiously. The town was too quiet and it occurred to him that he hadn't seen a living soul since they'd rode in. Fear took hold of Sam then and he unholstered his pistol, looking about carefully. He heard footsteps crunching in the dirt behind him. He whirled about, gun raised expecting the worst. What he saw shocked him, three men shotguns in hand, bearing the insignia of deputy's on their breast.

The men glared at him before one of them spoke, the man in the middle who appeared to be leading them. He had a cruel sneering face and spoke in a rasping, unsettling tone. "You're one o' them Winchesters, aint ya?" he asked, though Sam knew he already had the answer to that question.

"Listen ta me," Sam began, his tone forceful. "You can't take me. If you do, somethin’ real bad is gonna happen. You gotta believe me."

"Sure we believe ya." said the deputy. "We just wanta talk to ya is all. You come quiet like, we won't have no trouble."

Sam tightened his grip on his gun, his expression fierce and determined. The deputy seeing the change in him spoke again, his face becoming a mask if cruelty and hate. "Or we can just kill your brother and the old man ya got at that camp. Ya see it don't really matter if we take ya alive, just as long as we take ya. Ya understand?"

Sam knew he was beat, and so did they. He lowered his gun slowly and the two men on either side of the cruel faced deputy approached him. One took the pistol from him and the other slammed the butt of the shotgun into his gut, driving the breath painfully from him. He collapsed to the ground and the deputy's promptly snapped iron handcuffs over his wrists. He was dragged roughly to his feet. Sam looked to the deputy and spoke in a hoarse voice, ribs aching with every breath he took. "Where's my brother?" he asked angrily.

"Oh he'll be just fine Sammy, don't ya worry bout him. It’s you we want, not him."

Before Sam could wonder at what the man had meant, he was dragged to and roughly thrown into the back of a wagon. The wagon began to move and Sam lay in the back, doubled up in pain from what he knew to be a few busted ribs. He lay and waited, but for what he did not yet know.

Back at the camp Dean was beginning to worry, Sam had been gone too long. He and Bobby set out to search for the younger man. They walked through the empty town in futility, Sam was already long gone. Dean saw the wagon tracks in the dirt and an insurmountable rage filled him. He rushed back to the camp, Bobby close at his heels. Without a word spoken between them they mounted their horses and followed the tracks in the dirt. Dean spurred his horse on without mercy and a cold determination settled around his heart.

The wagon moved at a pace that should have been impossible for any horse to achieve, let alone maintain. The hours passes slowly and near sunset the wagon finally ground to a halt. Sam was dragged from the wagon and had only a moment to take in his surroundings before he was firmly led into a nearby building. He was taken into inside and Sam saw the iron cages lining the walls. He was thrown into one of the cells and when he heard the lock click behind him, it was with cold finality. Dread gripped Sam's heart and he wondered where Dean was, suddenly needing his brother with him. But no help and no comfort were given him. The deputy called over his shoulder as he walked away. "The sheriff'll be inta see ya soon, an he aint half as nice as I am."

The man turned to him with a smirk and when he blinked his eyes flashed a deep black before returning to their natural color. The demon was laughing as he walked out of the room, leaving Sam with the crushing reality of his situation. He sat on the cold metal cot in the cell and waited for the sheriff to arrive and he had a horrible realization of just who that would be.

* * *

 

Dean continued to follow the deep ruts the wagon had cut into the soft earth. His anxiety was mounting with every second that passed. Riding as hard as they were, Dean knew that they should have overtaken the wagon by now. The fact that they had not, added another layer of worry to Dean's already overwhelming load. He spurred his horse on faster and prayed to anyone who may be listening.

Meanwhile Sam had been waiting in tense silence for over an hour, was about to meet the sheriff. He heard footsteps approaching his cell and he stood quickly and stepped back from the door. A moment later a man appeared before him, or what appeared to be a man. He had hazel eyes and say hair. His clothing was neat and free of dust and pinned ostentatiously to his chest was the star shaped badge of a sheriff, gleaming in the dim light.

"Hello Sam." the man said softly.

"Lucifer." said Sam and there was no question about it.

"Good to meet you." said Lucifer.

"Well I can't say the same to ya." replied Sam.

"Aww, don't be like that. You know that I don't have a choice in ant of this, as you don't have any choice."

"We always got a choice." Sam said vehemently.

Lucifer shook his head as if speaking to a small child. "So narrow the human mind is." he said. "You have no concept of destiny. Everything that happens, happens because it must."

"I aint ever held ya that nonsense, round here a man makes his own destiny."

"You'll see." Lucifer said, his voice filled with a dark promise.

"I guess we will." Sam said with venom. He shifted his stance and winced at the pain of his broken ribs.

Lucifer looked at him curiously for a moment. "You're hurt." he said almost gently.

"I'm fine." replied Sam gruffly.

Lucifer snapped his fingers and the door to Sam's cell creaked open. Lucifer walked toward Sam and he took a step back, mindful of what hung around his neck. Lucifer kept coming, backing Sam against the wall. He lifted his two forefingers to Sam's forehead and a moment later the pain in Sam's abdomen vanished.

"I know how you must feel about me." he said softly.

"Do ya now?"

Lucifer chuckled. "I can smell you're self-righteous anger from here, but would you hate me so if you how alike we really are?"

"I aint nothin like you." Sam spat out.

"Oh, but you are." Lucifer said. "You see I had a brother once who I loved more than anything and a father I would have done anything for. And when I showed the slightest sign of independence they cast me off. My own brother leaving me to rot in hell for all eternity."

"That's where we're different," Sam said. "My brother would never turn his back on me."

"Of course," Lucifer said with a smirk. "You and your brother are awfully close aren't you? I mean I'm all for sins of the flesh and why not keep it in the family, right Sammy."

Sam tried to look away, but Lucifer gripped his chin and turned his face towards him. Sam looked into the Devil's eyes, unblinking. Lucifer's hand drifted downward, fingertips brushing the amulet through Sam's shirt. A jolt of panic shot through him and Lucifer laughed, taking a step back. Sam breathed a little more easily and waited for what he had feared would happen since he'd been taken. Lucifer had to reach out his hand and take the amulet and it would all be over.

"You don't think I haven't known about your little plan all along. Please, who do you take me for?" Lucifer said bemused. "Why do you think it was so easy for you to get that trinket you're wearing?"

"It weren't that easy." replied Sam thinking of what they'd lost to get it.

"Well I couldn't just give it away, could I?" said Lucifer. "Sorry about your friends, by the way. Real shame."

"Shut your damn mouth, they were good people." said Sam aggressively.

"Aww did I touch a nerve?"

Sam ignored his comment. "If you knew what we was plannin why didn't ya stop us if it woulda been so easy for ya?"

"Curiosity." Lucifer said simply. "I want to see how this thing plays out."

"You'd risk your life an ruin all your plans cause you're curious what will happen?" Sam asked shocked.

Lucifer laughed for several seconds, loudly and mockingly. He wiped a tear from his eye before he spoke. "It’s sweet, you really think you're going to win this fight."

Sam bristled at his condescending tone. "What makes ya so sure I won't?"

"I know you Sam, better than you think and I think we both know how this is going to end. You will fail and your brother will die."

"Keep tellin’ yaself that." Sam said.

Lucifer smiled fondly. "You belong to me Sam, I have waited a long time for this. You will not stand in my way."

"You'll see." said Sam, throwing Lucifer's earlier words back at him.

“Maybe I will, but not today.”

“What’s that supposed ta mean?”

“You were on your way to find me, were you not?” asked Lucifer.

“We was.” Sam admitted. “Down in Mexico.”

“Well then, you keep on heading down there and I’ll meet you there.” Lucifer said.

“Why there?”

“I have planned this out very carefully and to do it here would lack showmanship. I always put on a good show Sam.” Lucifer said cockily.

“Where will I find ya?” Sam asked ignoring his posturing.

“A place called La Lengua del Diablo,” Lucifer chuckled. “It mean’s Devil’s tongue, how they love naming things after me. It’s funny really.”

“So you’re just gonna let me go?” Sam asked suspiciously.

“Not quite, but your big brother’s on his way to save you as we speak.”

Sam breathed a sigh of relief, he hadn’t been sure if Dean was even still alive. Not that he could really trust the Devil anyway. “How do I know you aint lyin’ ta me?” Sam asked, voicing his suspicions.

“I will never lie to you, Sam.” Lucifer said truthfully. “I have no reason to.”

Sam remained unconvinced. “Well then I guess I’ll see you in Mexico,” he said.

“Where you’ll give yourself to me and then we’ll see who’s got the real cohones.” Lucifer added.

Sam glared at him, but did not respond. Lucifer looked out of the cell door and called out.

“Alistair,” he said to the demon who had taken Sam in. The demon approached him. “Sam’s brother is coming to fetch him. Make sure you have a warm welcome waiting for him.”

Alistair grinned maliciously. “O’ course I will.” He said.

“Sam is not to be harmed, is that understood?”

Alistair nodded, a hint of disappointment clouding his features. “Yes sir.” He said.

“When the brother is dead, release him.”

Lucifer turned back to Sam and seeing the look of surprise on his face, winked at him before vanishing. Sam resumed sitting on the cot, waiting for Dean to arrive, waiting and hoping. Alistair locked the cell behind him with a sneer.

“Don’t worry none.” He said. “I won’t hurt your brother much, or maybe I will.”

Sam tried to ignore the promise in his laugh as he walked away.

Dean had been following the wagon track s for almost an hour now and he had finally come to the end of the line. He rode up on a dilapidated old jail house and saw a wagon out front. He cursed silently to himself, thinking that Sam had merely been arrested. He dismounted and Bobby followed suit. Dean looked to the older man.

“What we gonna do bout this?” he asked.

“Don’t see that there’ much we can do.” Bobby said. “We can’t just bust in there, they’ll be guardin’ im an I don’t think killin’ lawmen is gonna help your reputation none.”

“They are not men of the law.” Came a voice from behind them. They turned quickly to see Castiel standing before them.

“Where’d you come from?” asked Dean bewildered.

“I heard your prayer.” Castiel replied.

“What do ya mean they aint lawmen?” asked Bobby.

“They are demons.” Castiel said. “Three of them.”

“Dammit,” Dean cursed. “I knew somethin’ didn’t feel right bout this. We gotta get im outta there, afore they find out what he’s wearing.”

“That would not be advisable.” Castiel agreed. “We will have to act fast, but I do not think they will harm him.”

“They’re demons they aint gonna picnic with im.” Dean said frustrated.

“They will not harm Lucifer’s vessel at risk of incurring his wrath.” Castiel said.

“Well we gotta get im out either way.” Dean said. “You comin’?”

“Of course.” Replied Castiel. “Are the two of you prepared?”

They nodded and they walked swiftly toward the jail house. Inside his cell, Sam could hear movement from the other room. He heard voices, and knew that Dean had arrived. He went to the cell door and peered out, trying to get a look into the other room, but Alistair had closed the door. Sam was resigned to wait. He heard the door to the jailhouse kicked open, then the sounds of shouting and clashing steel followed. The next few minutes were the longest of his life and when at last he heard nothing from the other room, he waited to see who would come through the door. He heard footsteps and then the door swung open. Dean stepped through, followed by Castiel and Bobby.

“Dean.” Sam called out to him, relived. “I thought that sumbitch Alistair had ya.”

Dean grinned at him, overjoyed to see him alive and unharmed. “Please,” he scoffed. “He weren’t nothin’”

Castiel stepped forward and opened the cell door with the snap of his fingers. “Hello Sam, I am glad to see you are unharmed.” He said.

“Thank ya.” Sam said. “You aint by any chance found out where Lucifer is, have ya?”

“Unfortunately I have not.” Castiel admitted.

“Well that’s alright.” Sam said. “Cause I know just where the bastard is.”

They left the jailhouse agreed to meet Castiel at the rendezvous in two days, apparently he had a few things to take care of before whole thing went down. Dean and Bobby mounted their horses and Sam grabbed one of the demon’s horses, there was no time to return to the camp. They rode south, headed for the border. Every mile they passed brought them closer to the end of the line and whatever destiny had in store for them.


	10. The Last Enemy To Be Destroyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is technically the last chapter, there will be a short epilogue after this that I'll probably be posting within the next few days. Anyways I hope ya like it.

Chapter Ten:  
The Last Enemy To Be Destroyed  
“In a narrow grave, just six by three we buried him there on the lone prairie.”

* * *

 

 

They crossed the border on the morning following Sam’s capture, they rode on until midday when they came upon a small town consisting of several pueblos, many of them worn down and seemingly deserted. They considered just riding through the town, but if they were going to find Lucifer, then they would need a guide who knew the area. They rode through the town until they came upon a group of people, three women and one man. The man was quite handsome, he had an innocence about him that gave him a youthful appearance, his deep brown eyes glittered in the afternoon sunlight. Dean dismounted his horse and approached the man.

“Americano?” the man asked.

“Yeah,” Dean replied. “You speak any English?”

“Enough,” the man said. “You are a long way from home my friends.”

“Yeah, well we got some work to do afore we can get back there.” Dean said. “We was wonderin’ if anyone round here could help us some.”

“And what could three strong vaqueros need with our help?”

Sam dismounted and stood beside his brother. He could sense the distrust in the young man. “We was lookin’ for a guide. We’re tryin’ ta get someplace an we aint real familiar with the area.” He said reassuringly.

“And where is it you want to go?”

“A place called La Lengua del Diablo.” Replied Sam.

The atmosphere changed suddenly, the three women crossed themselves looking fearful and the man grew stern. “Why would you want to go to a place like that, it’s cursed you know?”

“That’s why we’re goin’ there.” Sam said. “We can help.”

“You are not ordinary vaqueros.” It was not a question.

“No we aint.” Dean said. “Is there anyone round here knows the way?”

“I will lead you there, and if you can lift the curse then you will be heroes among my people.” The man said solemnly. “Come tell me, what are your names?”

“I’m Dean, this is my brother Sam and that,” Dean said pointing to Bobby, still on his horse. “Is Bobby Singer.”

The man nodded. “I am Javier and this place is what is left of my home.” Said Javier gesturing to the deserted streets around him.

“What happened here” asked Sam.

“They were driven out, many of the people had been here for generations, but all of them are gone. There are so few left now, they call this place las ciudad muerta, a ghost town.”

“Is it the curse what drove em out?” asked Dean.

“The place you seek is steeped in evil, no good will come of disturbing los fantasmas that dwell there.” Javier said.

“We aint really got a choice.” Dean said.

“I understand, you are very brave men.” Javier said. “I will fetch my horse and we will leave at once.” He turned from them and spoke to the three women about him in Spanish, they looked frightened but said nothing. He jogged off around one of the pueblos and reappeared a minute later riding a lovely white mare.

He stopped before them. “It will be a two day ride, are you ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be.” Dean said mounting his horse.

“Let us go then.” Javier said, leading them out of the ghost town and into the wilderness.

They rode all day and when the sun began to hang low on the horizon, Javier led them to a cave a half mile from the trial they’d been following. They dismounted and the four of them secured their horses outside and retreated into the cave. Dean set about building a fire and Sam unpacked what little food that had not been left behind at the camp at Ash Hollow. The four of them sat around the small fire, eating lukewarm beans, as the wind howled outside.

Javier looked to the mouth of the cave for a moment before he spoke. “A night such as this deserves a story.” He said.

“Does it now?” asked Bobby.

“Of course, the wind howls and you are sitting atop quite the tale you know?”

“What do ya mean?” asked Sam, his curiosity piqued.

“This place is called la cueva de las mil lágrimas, the cave of a thousand tears. The story goes that a man stole a horse from a group of bounty hunters and they chased him, as the Devil himself would. They caught him, lassoed him and dragged him behind their horses as they cried out a fired their pistols into the air, but killing the man, this was not enough for such cruel men. They knew him, knew that he had a young wife and child at home. They beat the woman and stole her baby, and she ran after them into the night. She kept running, long after she had lost sight of them and they say a storm swept over these hills that night. A storm carrying all of the mother’s grief and anger, she crawled into this cave to take shelter from the storm and she wept all the night for her loss. When the storm passed and they found her in the morning, she was dead. They say sometimes on stormy nights, you can hear her wailing in the wind, as she did for her lost baby.”

Sam and Dean shared a soft smile at the man’s reverent tone, they had heard their fair share of ghost stories. Bobby, however scoffed. “Is everythin’ round here haunted?”

“Not everything my friend.” Javier said with a laugh. “Alas, it is late. We have much ground to cover tomorrow, we must sleep.”

The fire was stamped out and they retired each to their own corner of the cave. Sleep eluded Sam that night, knowing what the following days would bring, and he was sure that Dean lay awake in his bed on the floor as well. They woke before dawn, the following day and set out immediately. Javier wished to linger no longer than he had to. Another long day’s ride brought them to a high ridge that looked down on a deep valley. The valley was forked in the center by jagged rocks, giving the appearance from where they stood, to a serpent’s forked tongue. Javier looked to them uncertainly before speaking.

“This is as far as I go I am afraid.” He said. “I wish you all luck and god bless you.”

“Thank ya, Javier.” Dean said. “We really preciate ya helpin’ us.”

“I hope to see you all again, but it is very rare for one to return from that place, and the ones that do…” Javier trailed off.

“We’ll be alright.” Sam assured him, though unable to do the same for himself.

“Be careful out here at night my friends, los lobos son asesinos.”

“We will.” Sam promised. “Look after yourself, Javier.”

Javier lifted a hand in farewell and rode off, back to the ghost town. The three men looked down into the valley a moment longer, Sam thinking of what wait for him there. They turned and looked for a bit of flat land to make camp. They hid their horses as best they could and not wanting to risk a fire, they sat in the dust as the night grew dark around them. From far out in the desert they heard the lonely howling of a wolf. Dean sent a prayer up to Castiel, letting them know where they were and they waited for morning. The boys took first watch and Bobby lay down and slept, how he could manage it Dean had no idea. Sam shifted closer to his brother and Dean put his arm around his shoulders.

"Sammy," Dean began, glad that Sam could not see the vulnerability on his face. "I'd things go sideways tomorra, I just want ya ta know..." he trailed off.

"It's alright, Dean." Sam said. "You aint gotta."

"Yeah I do. Sam I don't if I can do this without ya."

"Yes you can." Sam said lifting his head to meet his brother's eyes. "Promise me you won't give up. You find that farm we talked bout, you have a normal life like ya deserve."

"You deserve it too Sam, more'n I do."

"That don't matter just promise me."

"I promise Sam, I'll try."

Unmindful of how close Bobby slept to them, Sam kissed Dean, achingly sweet and full of all the things they couldn't say. They held each other till dawn, not bothering to wake Bobby. Castiel appeared before them as the sun began to warm the desert. Castiel hesitated a moment, it felt wrong to disturb the last moment of peace the two men were liable to have, but there was nothing for it.

"Good morning." he said, drawing their attention. They separated immediately and stood as though they had not been caught in such a tender moment.

Dean straightened his coat roughly. "Heya Cas." he said. "How goes it?"

“I am well Dean.” Castiel said. “Are you prepared for today?”

Dean looked at Sam for a second before he replied. “Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

Bobby had awoken at the sound of their voices and he looked at them. “That time already?” he asked.

“Hadn’t I better go this one alone?” Sam asked. “In case this don’t go the way we expect.”

“No.” Dean said firmly. “We do this together, or not at all.”

Sam nodded, looking at Bobby. "I just wanted ta tell ya I 'preciate all ya done for us Bobby. Thank ya for bein' there. You been a better father ta us than our Pa ever was."

Bobby nodded, his face filled with emotion. "It weren't nothin'." he said. "Id've been proud ta bee your Pa, both o' ya."

"If we're ready to go?" Castiel asked.

“Let’s do it then.” Sam replied.

They made their way down into the valley, knowing what wait for them there. Sam thought only of Dean as they followed the rocky path down into the ravine. He was glad not to have to do this alone, and if this was to be his last day, at least Dean would be the last thing he saw before he died and for that he was grateful. It was a tense several minutes before they reached the bottom of La Lengua del Diablo. They spread out and walked into the valley, waiting for something to happen. It wasn't long before they got their wish, when it all began. They heard the crunch of gravel behind them. They turned and Sam stood before Lucifer once more, for the last time. The Devil smirked before speaking.

"Good to see you again Sam." he said politely. "I trust you've been well."

Dean looked at his brother a question on his lips, but Sam did not take his eyes off Lucifer as he replied. "I'm fine." he said. "Are ya ready to do this?"

"I have been ready for millennia." Lucifer said, impatiently. "I have only been waiting for you."

"Well I'm here." said Sam and he could feel Dean move closer to him as he spoke.

"I assume we all know how this is going to work," said Lucifer. "I trust my brother has told you all you need to know."

Castiel stiffened visibly at Lucifer's words. "You are no brother of mine." he said.

"You wound me." Lucifer said, clutching his chest in mock pain.

Sam reached over and squeezed Dean's hand before he spoke up. "Are we doin' this or not?" he asked.

"Eager are we?" asked Lucifer with a chuckle. "Alright then, your move."

Sam tore his eyes from Lucifer at last to give a last grateful look to his friends, his family. He faced Lucifer once more. "Yes." he said with determination.

Lucifer smiled almost beatifically and his eyes shone with an iridescent blue light. The light left Lucifer's vessel in a torrent. Dean watched as it hovered in the air a moment before it shot through the air towards Sam, Dean's heart clenched painfully as the light engulfed his brother. The Devil's grace was absorbed by the younger Winchester and in a matter of seconds it was over. Dean looked at Sam, but his brother did not look back at him. Lucifer, cruel and vindictive looked through Sam's eyes at them and he laughed.

"Looks like Sammy wasn't quite as strong as he thought." Lucifer said with Sam's voice, much harsher than any tone Sam had ever used. "Shame."

Castiel stepped forward as Dean tried to swallow the panic that had risen in his throat. "Get out of here, both of you."

"I aint leaving him." Dean said, his heart hardening in steely determination. "I won't."

"He's not your brother anymore." Castiel said. Dean opened his mouth to reply, but Lucifer had stepped forward. He snapped his fingers with a cold precision. Castiel imploded, seemingly from within. Dean and Bobby were covered in gore, as blood and entrails sprayed forth from where Castiel had been standing a moment before.

"He talked too much." Lucifer said as if in explanation of what he'd done.

Bobby looked to Dean, naked fear on his face. "Dean-" he began, but Lucifer had raised his hand.

He twisted his hand and with it Bobby's neck twisted, painfully and unnaturally. Bobby collapsed to the ground dead, his last words unspoken.

"Looks like it's just the two of us now." Lucifer said and Dean looked into his eyes, trying to find his brother within the cruelty and rage he saw.

"Sam," Dean said as Lucifer advanced on him. "I know you're in there."

Lucifer scoffed. "Sam can't hear you anymore big brother." he said.

Lucifer stretched out his arm and there appeared a moment later a coiled whip of grace in his hand. He waved his hand, throwing Dean to the ground. He stepped forward and pulled his arm back. He brought his arm down violently and with the crack of the whip, Dean felt pain as he had never known before. Lucifer whipped him again, agony lashing through Dean ferociously. Dean covered his face and Lucifer whipped him again and again, without mercy. Dean's coat and shirt were torn and his bloody, lacerated skin was visible through the tears. Through the haze of pain Dean managed to speak, vowing that if this were going to be the end, that Sam would know how much he had been loved.

“Sammy,” Dean croaked through parched lips, his face pressed to the dusty ground. “I’m here Sam. I’m not going anywhere.”

Lucifer knelt beside Dean and grabbed by the lapels of his tattered coat. He pulled his into a sitting position and looked him in the eye. “I can feel him you know, scrabbling away at the inside of his own mind, trying to save you. He doesn’t give a damn about the world, all he cares about is saving you and you know what? I’m going to make him watch you die in the most horrible way I can imagine, and I have a very good imagination.” Lucifer giggled manically.

Dean looked deep into the hazel eyes he knew so well. “Then finish it,” Dean said, resigned. “Cause I’m not leaving him. You hear me Sam? I’m here and I love you.”

The grin slid from Lucifer’s face and a look of puzzlement took its place. A moment later there was a change in Lucifer and Dean knew that Sam was fighting to take control. He held onto his brother and prayed for him to find the strength to do so. “Sam?” Dean asked, allowing himself to hope.

A sad smile crossed Sam’s face, for it was Sam who looked back at Dean now. “It’s okay Dean.” Sam said. “I’ve got him.”

Sam got to his feet and reached slowly into his shirt for the amulet that lay nestled against his heart. He yanked the amulet from his neck, breaking the cord. Sam held the amulet out in front of him and looked at Dean. His eyes filled with tears. “I love you Dean.” He said, a tremor in his voice. “I love you.”

And with those final words Sam, without taking his eyes off Dean, recited the Enochian spell and threw the amulet at the ground as hard as he could. Nothing happened for a moment, then the amulet erupted in a fierce orange flame, holy fire which immediately engulfed Sam. Sam did not scream, just continued Looking at his brother as the flames climbed higher and higher.  
“Sam!” Screamed Dean, but whether or not Sam could hear him he did not know.

Dean lay in the dirt and watched his brother burn as he had watched their mother burn so many years ago. The irony was lost on him in his grief. In a few minutes it was over, and Dean looked to where his brother had been standing, where now sat a pile of ash. He crawled to it and he could no longer hold back his tears. Behind him he heard movement, and then a voice next to him. It was Castiel.

“Dean.” He said, but stopped, seeing the look on Dean’s face. He leaned over and touched a hand to Dean’s cheek, healing the wounds that Lucifer had inflicted. Dean did not notice the absence of pain, for a much deeper pain had taken its place, a grief so profound that Dean was sure he could not breathe for it.

Behind Castiel stood Bobby, both of them alive and well. Dean returned his gaze to what remained of his brother, weeping in earnest. He leaned forward, praying for Sam to come back the way they had, he prayed for his life to return to him, his soul. But he remained alone, his tears mingling with the ash. He knelt in the dirt for a long time, until it began to rain, gently and almost apologetically. Dean did not move, even long after the ashes had turned to mud.


	11. From The Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months after The Devil's Tongue, Dean tries to piece his life back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, this has been pretty fun to write, I hope you all enjoyed reading it.

Epilogue:  
From The Ashes

* * *

 

It had been about six months since Mexico, six months since losing Sam. A good portion of that time had been spent in a haze of drunken grief, he had wandered from town to town never staying in one place very long and never staying sober very long either. As the months wore on and his memories began to catch up to him, despite his efforts to distance himself from them, Dean remembered something, a promise he had made. He had promised Sam that he would find that farm and at least try for a normal life, Dean had done neither of these things. He lay in a dirty cot in a rundown inn and remembered his promise. He felt ashamed that he had ignored Sam's wishes so completely and decided that perhaps he had been running long enough.

The following morning, sober for the first time in months, Dean mounted up and pointed his horse towards South Dakota. He had to see a man about a horse. After Sam had died he and Bobby and Castiel had parted ways, much to Bobby's distress. Dean had not seen either of them since, but he figured if anyone could help him get back on his feet, it was Bobby. It was nearly a week of dusty trails and sober living until he entered Sioux Falls and Dean was far from happy, but he knew he was on his way. He knocked on Bobby's door around noon and when the older man answered a look of relief and affection washed over his face. Dean felt guilty for the worry he must have caused him.

"Hiya Bobby." Dean said, a lot sheepishly.

"Boy I oughtta tan your hide for worryin' me like ya done, but damn is it good ta see ya."

"Sorry Bobby." Dean said. "It aint been easy."

Bobby stepped forward and caught Dean in a crushing hug. "I know how ya feel." he said. "Now come inside an tell me how ya been."

And so Dean told Bobby of his grief and his drinking and at last of the promise he had made to his brother. "I was wonderin' ya know since you know all bout this stuff, if ya could gimme a hand getting started. I aint ever farmed afore in my life, but I figure it cannot be harder than what I done already."

"I reckon nothin' could be harder and o' course I'll help ya. That's what I'm here for." Bobby said with a warm smile.

Dean's expressionless became somber as he debated on whether or not to broach the subject of Sam's death. He had been trying so hard to get away from it, but he had failed. Maybe he should try and accept it, if he could. He breathed deeply before speaking. "Why didn't he come back?" Dean asked in a small voice. "He was supposed ta."

"I know," Bobby said placing a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder. "Maybe Gabriel was wrong, maybe it don't matter how worthy ya are."

"Sam was better n' all of us, he deserved ta..." Dean trailed off.

"It don't feel right, md bein' here when he aint. Sometimes I wish I could trade places with I'm, but there ain't nothin' we can do ta change the past. We just gotta live with it, as best we can."

"That's what Sam wanted." Dean said. "I been doin' a piss poor job so far."

"We can fix that, I’ll help ya." Bobby said, giving Dean's shoulder a squeeze.

"Thanks Bobby." Dean said and a fraction of the weight he'd been carrying in his heart seemed to lessen.

In the end Dean found that farm, a little and shabbier than he and Sam had envisioned, but it was enough. Dean planted his crops in the twenty acres he had, with Bobby's help and he acquired a few chickens and a milking cow. It wouldn't make him rich, but it was enough for him to get by on. And during the nights where sleep eluded him, or where he was plagued by nightmares he would sit in his little kitchen, by the light if a gas lamp and work. Repairing tackle and tools and whatever else had broken down that week. He fixed up the little farmhouse as best he could and when he was finished, when it was near on a year since he'd lost Sam, Dean relaxed, let out the breathe he had been holding. It wouldn't be perfect and he couldn't guarantee he would ever actually be happy, but he could live and he hoped that he had kept Sam's promise.

It was nearly dawn, Dean had been working in the fields a while, wanting to get an early start. It was almost time for harvest, Dean's first in his new life and he wanted it to be successful. Bobby had agreed to assist, he had been invaluable to Dean these last few months, with his vast knowledge and the comfort of his friendship. Dean shuddered to think where he would have ended up if it weren't for Bobby and his promise to Sam, probably strung up somewhere, or shot down in the street.

Dean knelt in the dirt reinforcing one of the cornstalks with a few twigs and some twine. As he worked he heard footsteps behind him, quiet on the soft earth, but audible. Dean rose from where he knelt and turned, expecting Bobby. The two of them lived on a few miles apart, an easy walk. What he saw was not Bobby, he took a tentative step forward, unsure of what he saw. The sun weak as it was overhead, casting shadows over the man's face, but Dean recognized him nonetheless.

"Sam?" Dean asked, a tremble in his voice, wishing more than asking.

The man stepped forward and Dean could see his face clearly for the first time. Sam stood before him, smiling softly his eyes glinting in the predawn sunlight. "Hey Dean." he said softly.

Dean reached out and touched Sam's cheek gently, as if to confirm his existence. Dean cupped Sam's cheek, warm beneath his hand. "Sammy." he choked out through the violent emotion which surged through him.

Sam closes the remaining distance between them and wrapped his arms around his brother. "It's alright Dean." he said gently. "I'm here."

Sam pulled back and brought their mouths together in a gentle kiss. In his brothers arms Dean allowed the pain and struggle of the past year drain from him and he was filled with a joy that was almost transcendent. They parted and Sam rested his forehead against Dean's. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stood that way a long time, safe at last in each other’s arms amidst the rows of corn under a swift sunrise.


End file.
